


Further Adventures

by VioletHaze



Series: Let This Remain Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean in Panties, Dom Drop, Dom!Cas, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Nonsexual Dom/sub, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Safewords, Sub!Dean, Subdrop, Top Drop, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, fluffy BDSM, healthy BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHaze/pseuds/VioletHaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas regards him with that level gaze. “So you’d be the submissive one.”</p><p>Dean flushes. “Um, yeah.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Cas says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a Sunday morning when Dean first broaches the subject.

They’ve been in Ann Arbor for three months, renting one half of a duplex in a neighborhood full of grad students. Castiel is fully ensconced in his master’s program and Dean has found mechanic work at a garage up near north campus. Along with working full time, he’s managing to take a psychology class, building on the three he took back in Lawrence.

They’d left Kansas on a broiling hot day in July, secure in the knowledge that their siblings had their own lives well in hand. When September came, Anna would be starting her freshman year at Northwestern and Sam, with Kevin as his new housemate, was geared up to tackle his senior year of college.

Dean misses his brother, of course, but knowing that Sam has no long-term plans to stay in Lawrence made it easier for Dean to make his own decision to leave. Sam’s sights are firmly set on the west coast for law school and it doesn’t escape Dean’s notice that Jess is also hoping to return home to California when she graduates. And while Cas’s parents will probably never completely be on board with their relationship, it seems easier for them with Dean and Cas a few states away. There are even occasional phone calls from his parents (to Cas’s cell phone only, God forbid they call the house phone where Dean might answer) and Cas reports that those talks are fairly civil.

Cas had worried about Dean leaving behind his brother and Bobby and the circle of friends and support he’d built for himself in Kansas, and maybe Dean should’ve been more anxious about it but this wasn’t like when he ran away to Pittsburgh. This move was well-thought out and planned and discussed in excruciating detail. When Cas had looked at him with concern, asking again whether Dean was sure about picking up and re-locating to a place where they knew no one, Dean had taken his hand.

“I’ll know you.”

“You know what I mean,” Cas had said.

There was no way to make this sound like anything other than a Hallmark card, so Dean had plowed forward. “Look, I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together.” Cas had barely managed to suppress a smile, but Dean ignored him and continued. “Up until now, we’ve fit each other into the lives we already had,” he said, looking at the way his belongings and Cas’s were intermingled in the house they shared with Sam. “I’d like to give us a chance to be just the two of us.”

Driving away from Lawrence was bittersweet, but Dean knew his friends and family were just a phone call or a text away. There were no flames from burning bridges lighting up his rearview mirror.  

Dean knows that moving ranks high on the list of life stressors (seriously, Cas printed out a list he found on the internet and gave it to him) so he’s still making monthly check-in phone calls to Tessa, with the understanding that he’ll find somebody local to talk to if they both decide that’s what he needs. So far, though, it’s gone remarkably smoothly. Dean likes Ann Arbor. It’s a lot like Lawrence in the sense that both towns—at least the campuses, anyhow— are filled with liberal, open-minded people and he and Cas can be completely open about their relationship without anybody batting an eye. He likes his job. They’ve made friends with Benny, who works at the garage with him, and his wife Andrea. And Chuck who lives in the other half of the duplex and Hannah who may or may not be his girlfriend. (Dean and Cas spend an inordinate amount of time trying to decide whether or not they’re dating.)

The old Dean might’ve been edgy, not trusting where things are, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but this Dean, the one who has a satisfying job and a steady boyfriend and a duplex is finding the time to think about himself.

Which is why the topic comes up on this particular Sunday, when they’ve had a late breakfast and are still lounging, sharing the last cup of coffee. Cas has studying to do, and Dean likes to get a couple of meals for the week cooked and in the freezer on Sundays, but for now they’re curled up on the couch, Dean’s head in Cas’s lap.

“I was thinking,” Dean begins, relaxing into the hand Cas runs through his hair. “I might like to try something….new.”

“That’s vague even for you,” Cas says. “Like what?”

“Um.” Dean keeps his eyes on the fabric of Cas’s shirt. “What would you think about maybe trying some Dom/sub stuff?”

Cas’s hand stills and there’s a long beat of silence. “What, like bondage? That sort of thing?”

“Well, that can be part of it, but there’s a lot more to it than that.” Dean says, pushing up to sit next to him. “Honestly, it’s not a far stretch from some of what we do now. You like to take control as it is and—“

“Wait. You think I like to be in charge?”

Dean gapes at him. “You think you don’t?”

“I guess I never really thought about it in those terms.” Cas frowns.

“There’s nothing wrong with it. I like it. Actually, I love it. Which is why I thought this might be a good next step.”

Cas regards him with that level gaze. “So you’d be the submissive one.”

Dean flushes. “Um, yeah.”

“Hmm,” Cas says.

Dean smooths his own hair as he tries to explain. “You know how I have a habit of overthinking things?”

Cas smiles at him with fond recognition. “I have noticed that, yes.”

“Well, this is a way to turn over the decision-making and sort of take me out of my own head. If that makes sense.” Dean is butchering this. He should’ve made note cards or something.

“Are you saying you overthink things when we’re in bed?” Cas studies him with concern.

“No.” Dean says quickly. “Not at all. I just think this would work well with both of our, um, natural tendencies. I mean, I spent so many years having to handle everything all the time. It’s no wonder I like being able to give up control to you.” Cas squints at him, but Dean can tell he’s processing, so he continues. “And you. Your parents had you under their thumb for so long—”

Cas shudders and holds up a hand to stop him. “If you’re trying to convince me, I’d suggest you leave my parents out of our sex life.”

“Right. Sorry.”

They sit for a moment in silence.

“Look,” Dean says, trying again. “I know how you operate, so I’m not asking you to say yes or no to this right now. I’ve got a bunch of sites bookmarked if you want to do some research. You can take a look and read up on it and let me know what you think. Does that sound fair?”

“You’ve thought a lot about this,” Cas confirms.

“I have.”

“Send me the links.”

****

A week and a half later they’re sitting at the table having dinner. After they finish discussing each other’s days, Cas clears his throat and says, “I went through the information you sent me. I…learned quite a bit.”

Dean stops with his glass of water halfway to his mouth. “And?”

“And I was under a number of misconceptions, but I think I’m starting to understand it now.” Cas says, before pressing his lips together and silently regarding Dean for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Dean replies warily, setting down the glass. Cas is looking at him with the sort of wrinkled brow concern that Dean doesn’t think he’s seen since they pulled out of Lawrence, Dean grim behind the wheel after saying one last goodbye to Sam. Dean’s pretty sure he knows where this is going.

“Are you certain this isn’t about something else all together?” Cas asks gently. “It’s not a distraction from something that’s bothering you?”

Dean feels a wave of affection washing over him for the way Cas is treading so carefully, not wanting to push him. Cas knows, almost better than anyone, the way Dean has struggled in the past and Dean understands why Cas might be apprehensive.

Dean takes a deep breath. “That’s a fair question. And truthfully, it’s one I’ve asked myself.” Dean watches as some of the tension melts from the way Cas is holding himself. “But it really isn’t. This is something I’ve wanted to try for a long time and now that we’re here, with our own place,” Dean laughs as Cas winces, remembering the wall their bedroom shared with Sam’s, “it seems like the perfect time.”

“You’re sure?” Cas double checks.

“I swear, Cas.”

“Okay.”

“So, you’re saying….” Dean ventures.

“I’m saying I’d be willing to explore it a bit with you.”

Dean feels a flutter of excitement in his chest but before he can say anything, Cas gestures at him with his fork. “However. There would need to be some pretty serious ground rules.”

“Of course,” Dean says quickly. “That’s what safewords are for.”

Cas tilts his head and Dean can see the wheels turning. “Dean, would you consider wearing a collar?”

“Cas, you kinky bastard.” Dean grins at him because apparently they are going _right there_ already.

“No, not like that,” Cas says, then corrects himself. “Okay, a little bit like that. But mostly to keep the boundaries clear.”

“Meaning?”

“This whole thing is about trust, right?” He waits for Dean to nod in agreement. “Proper use of a safeword is fundamental, but I think a collar….a collar would serve as a tangible reminder of when we are—and more importantly—when we _aren’t_ in those roles.” Cas sets down the fork. “I don’t want this to bleed over into the rest of our relationship.”

“I get that,” says Dean, because he does. This is about pushing things a little bit further in this one aspect of their connection, not redefining who they are in regard to each other.

“And aftercare,” Cas continues. “Very important.”

“Yes,” Dean agrees, wondering if Cas, in his thorough acquisition of knowledge, has put together a powerpoint presentation.

“And I read a lot about subdrop--”

“Cas,” Dean says and Cas stops and looks at him. “I know all about this stuff. And because we’re so close already, I’m not too worried about that part of it. I think that’s more for people who are just starting out.”

“Subdrop is hormonal, Dean. It’s brain chemistry. Neurochemicals don’t care whether or not you’re in a long term, committed relationship.”

Dean makes an exaggerated show of setting his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands and fluttering his lashes at Cas. “You say the most romantic things.”

But Cas has his serious face on, and Dean suddenly pictures him standing over the bed with a clipboard and pen.

“I promise I’ll let you know how I’m feeling.” He holds Cas’s gaze. “So when can we start?”

Cas pushes his chair back from the table. “Let’s order you a collar.”

****

They sit on the couch, Dean leaning into Cas’s shoulder so he can see as Cas navigates on the laptop. After perusing a variety of sites, they find themselves on Etsy which has a surprising number of options. There are collars made from chain mail and vinyl, from PVC plastic, and even glow in the dark duct tape. They scroll through collars studded with shining spikes and collars softened by lace embellishment (Cas quickly exits out of one decorated with metal crosses) before narrowing their search to leather.

They both know the collar as soon as they see it. It’s beautifully crafted from rich brown leather with hand-beveled edges and a brass buckle. Laying on the front center of the collar is a smooth brass O ring, anchored on either side by an embossed leather strap held in place with polished rivets. Cas spares no expense on the quality of the leather or the addition of a padded cotton lining (“Comfort is critical, Dean.”) but he draws the line at paying extra for expedited shipping.

That means another few weeks or so of waiting for their custom order to be crafted and mailed. (“Friggin’ pony express,” Dean grumbles). During this time, Cas whole-heartedly embraces research mode. In the evenings when Cas can take a break from studying, they spend time visiting sites to read up on all sorts of practices. Anything they’re both into gets a thorough online investigation, and there are a number of things they rule out immediately (“I have no interest in having you kneel, Dean.” “No way in hell am I calling you ‘Sir’.”). They start a folder labeled Maybe for things one or the other of them isn’t ready to take off the table.

The day the collar arrives, Cas is home from class before Dean is done at the garage. When Cas wordlessly texts him a picture of the unopened package, Dean discovers he can work faster and more efficiently than he ever thought possible and makes it back to the duplex in record time.

When he walks into the house, he finds Cas sitting on the couch reading, like it’s just another regular day. Like the package hasn’t beckoned Dean with a siren’s call since he found out it arrived. Like they aren’t about to turn things upside down.

Cas watches him with that calm, studied demeanor as he crosses the room to kiss him hello. Usually Dean would ask if anything interesting came in the mail, but he already knows the answer to that.

“I see Hannah’s over at Chuck’s,” Dean says casually as he goes to check the pot simmering on the stove, because two can play at this game.

“Is she?” Cas says, turning back to his book. “Her car wasn’t there when I got home.”

The rest of the evening progresses in much the same way. To the untrained eye, the two of them are going about their regular routine but Dean’s got an energy thrumming through him that he’s working to keep contained. He’s only partially successful and when Cas slips behind him to plant a kiss on his neck while he’s washing dishes, Dean yelps and drops the soup ladle into the sink with a soapy splash.

“Something got you on edge?” Cas asks.

“You’re an asshole,” Dean says when he sees the smug look Cas doesn’t even try to hide.

Cas just laughs and picks up a towel to dry the dishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dean's collar](https://www.etsy.com/listing/103175616/bdsm-collar-bondage-slave-collar-leather)


	2. Chapter 2

Finally ( _finally_ ) they go upstairs and Cas pulls the package out from under his pillow. Dean sits on the edge of the bed and tries (and fails) to look disinterested.

 “Ready?” Cas asks and Dean has to stop himself from grabbing it right out of his hands.  He’s quite sure Cas is going to open it like a grandma on Christmas, careful and slow so he can save all the wrappings, but Cas rips the padded envelope open and the collar falls onto the bed.  For a moment, neither of them reaches for it, then Cas picks it up and hands it to Dean.  Dean turns it around and around in his hands, feeling the rich, pebbled texture of the leather and running his thumb over the smooth metal ring.  

 Cas holds out his hand for it and Dean touches one last fingertip to a rivet before turning it over to him.  

 “Are you sure you want to do this?” Cas asks.

 Dean blows out a long breath.  “Yeah.”

 “Okay.  You’ve decided on a safeword?”

 Dean nods.  Not merely wanting to choose a word at random, the task had been more difficult than he’d expected.  He wanted a word that held meaning for him while being something that would never come out of his mouth in the heat of the moment.  

 “Pittsburgh,” he says.

 Cas smiles.  “That’ll work nicely,” he says before turning serious again.  “At any time either of us can take this collar off of you.  It’s a way to put us back in our regular roles without explanation or negotiation.“

 Dean nods again, his eyes fixed on the collar. Cas takes one hand and gently tips back his chin until Dean is looking at him.

 “I love you,” Cas says.

 “I love you, too,” Dean says.  “And thank you for this.” 

 He doesn’t just mean the collar.  He means the whole thing,   All the research and time Cas put into it simply because Dean asked.  All because he knew it was important to Dean.  Cas entered into this without judgment or even a hint of shame and there’s a part of Dean that has never felt so cared for because of it.  

 Cas holds up the collar.

 “Should I get undressed first?” Dean asks.

 “Hmm.  I don’t know.  Do you want to?” Cas asks. 

 Dean can see the indecision in his eyes and he realizes then that Cas is just as nervous as he is. Because the collar isn’t on yet, Dean takes it upon himself to make a decision, and he leans forward to kiss Cas.  

 “Put it on me, then I’ll get undressed,” Dean says with an assurance he doesn’t feel.

 Cas looks relieved as he lays the collar in place, gesturing for Dean to turn so that he can see to work the buckle.  He slips a finger underneath.  “Does that feel okay?  Not too tight?”  

 Dean reaches up to touch the leather, gliding his fingers across the ring and the cold, smooth rivets.  The weight of it around his neck makes him feel warm all over.  “It’s good.”

 “Why don’t you, um, get undressed now,” Cas says.

 Dean has to stop himself from smiling because at this rate, what with all the hesitation and tentative suggestions, Cas is going to be the Worst. Dom. _Ever_.  Nonetheless, he stands up to pull off his clothes, trying to be graceful about it.  

 Cas has seen him naked on a million occasions, but there’s something different about it this time.  Even though he can’t see it himself, the collar seems glaringly conspicuous now that it’s the only thing he’s wearing.  Cas hasn’t moved from his spot on the edge of the bed and he’s staring at Dean, standing naked in front of him, like he’s never seen him before.  The silence draws out between them and Dean curls his hands into fists as he waits for Cas to make the next move.

 Cas nods, almost to himself, then stands up.  He’s looking at Dean more decisively now, more clear-eyed.  “On the bed.” he says and Dean is quick to comply.

 “Under the covers or…?”  Dean’s pretty sure he knows the answer to this one, but he figures it’ll help Cas practice giving specific directions.

 “On top of the covers.  On your back.”  

 Dean smiles a little to himself as he gets into position.  Cas stands by the bed and studies him so long that Dean has to stop himself from squirming.  Finally, still fully clothed, he climbs onto the bed and straddles Dean’s hips.

 “I’m going to pin your hands down,” he says, and Dean’s breath hitches.  “Are you okay with that?”

 Dean nods and swallows hard.

 “No, Dean.  I need you to say it so we’re clear.”

 “Totally on board, Cas.”  

 He’s rewarded when Cas takes his wrists and slides his hands up near his head.  Cas lowers himself down to kiss Dean, long and deep.  Cas is strong but Dean knows he could get out of this if he wanted to.  But this isn’t about what he _could_ do, it’s about what he _will_ do.  And what he does is let Cas hold his hands down.  

 After a few minutes, Cas figures out that if he pulls his mouth away, Dean will try to follow, arching his neck and wriggling beneath him.  Cas grinds his hips down just long enough for Dean to get some friction, then raises himself up again, just out of reach.  Cas kisses the underside of his jaw and moves down his neck, tugging at the collar with his teeth, before sliding his tongue underneath the leather.  

 Dean’s been putting up fairly token resistance until this point, but when Cas works his way down to scrape his teeth over a nipple, Dean twists beneath him and pushes hard against Cas’s hands.   Cas tightens his grip and presses Dean’s wrists more firmly into the mattress on either side of the pillow.  Dean sighs with contentment and raises his hips again, but Cas is hovering over him on hands and knees, leaving Dean’s thrusting into the air.  

 Cas hesitates for a moment and when Dean opens his eyes, Cas is looking right at him.  “I’m going to let go of one of your hands for a minute.  But that doesn’t mean you can move it.”

 “Got it,” Dean says, surprised at how breathless he sounds.  

 Cas lets go of his right hand and grabs the other pillow.  He shoves it under Dean’s head, propping him up a bit.  Dean waits for Cas to circle his fingers around his skin again, but instead Cas gathers both wrists onto one hand, pressing them into the pillow just above Dean’s head.   He uses his free hand to unbutton and unzip his jeans and work his cock free.  He strokes it a couple of times, moving forward on his knees until he can guide himself towards Dean’s waiting mouth.  Dean isn’t surprised, but he feels the frustration keenly when Cas only drags the tip of his cock along Dean’s lips, letting him lap at it with his tongue for a few seconds. 

After teasing him with the tip a few more times, Cas lets him have the head and Dean licks and sucks at it urgently, waiting for it to be taken away again.  When Cas inevitably pulls back, Dean makes a needy sound he isn’t proud of, but then Cas repositions himself, scooting a little closer so that he can push all the way into Dean’s mouth.  Now Cas goes back to using both hands to pin him down and Dean moans as he works the shaft with his tongue, taking it in as deeply as he can, the denim of Cas’s jeans brushing against his face.   He can tell that Cas is holding back, resisting the urge to thrust deeply and that makes Dean even more eager to please.

 “God, your mouth,” Cas says.  

It’s awkward without the use of his hands.  Normally he’d have them gripped around Cas’s hip or kneading them into his ass.  Still firmly holding his wrists, Cas lets him lift his hands off the pillow so he can prop himself up on his elbows for a better angle.  Cas is letting him do all the work and Dean feels the strain in his neck a little bit, but he takes him deeper into his mouth, until his nose presses against the dark nest of curls.  

 “So good, Dean, so good,” Cas murmurs as he gets close, clenching Dean’s wrists more tightly even as he pulls Dean’s hands to his thighs.  Dean scrambles to grip at the jeans, grateful for another point of contact between them.  

 Dean swirls his tongue and increases the pace and it’s not long before Cas tosses his head back and comes, teeth clenched with the effort of not driving into Dean’s mouth.  With no hands to help, Cas slips out of Dean’s mouth before he’s completely spent and Dean feels the warmth splatter on the side of his face.  

Slowly Cas’s breathing returns to normal and he half climbs-half falls off of Dean to lie beside him on the bed.  Dean wiggles his fingers as the circulation returns full force to his hands, and wipes his face on the pillowcase.  Out of habit, he rolls towards Cas and reaches for him, happy even to fist his hands in the shirt that Cas still wears. But Cas catches his hands again. 

“We’re not done.” he says, maneuvering Dean gently onto his back.  “And it wasn’t nice of me not to let you use your hands before.”  

Dean smirks a little at that.  

 “So, now’s your chance,” Cas continues.  “I want you to touch yourself.”

 Dean opens his mouth to protest because this is different.  It’s different than jacking himself while Cas fucks him.  It’s different than getting himself off in private.  This is something they haven’t done before and it doesn’t help that Cas never turned off the lamp on the night table.  

 Cas looks at him, calmly waiting.  Dean presses his lips together and tries for a glare, but he obediently slides his right hand down his body, curling it around his cock.  Cas is propped up on one elbow now, watching intently, and it doesn’t escape Dean’s notice that he’s being careful about not letting any part of them touch.  Without even that hint of connection, Dean feels more exposed, the lamp like a spotlight on him.  

 He moves his hand slowly up and down, feeling himself getting harder.  _This was your idea_ , he tells himself, clenching his other hand into a fist at his side, as he tries to focus on what he’s doing.  

 “You have two hands, Dean. Use them both.”

 Well. Cas is certainly getting the hang of things quickly.  

 Dean can’t suppress an indignant huff, but he moves his other hand to his chest and runs a palm over his nipple before twisting it with his fingers.  The sensation zings right down to his groin and he uses his thumb to spread the new beading of pre-come.  It’s starting to feel pretty good and if Cas wants a show, then that’s what he’ll give him.  With his eyes squeezed shut, he spreads his legs wider and moans a little, mostly for effect.

 “Open your eyes.”  

 Dean’s hands still as he hesitates. 

 “I’m not asking,” Cas says in a tone that sends a shiver down Dean’s spine.  

Dean pulls in a deep breath and opens his eyes. He turns to look at Cas and something in him snaps into place.  The part of his brain that was talking him through this clicks off and everything narrows to sensation.  He feels the softness of the comforter under him, hears the ragged gasps of his breath.  His eyes are locked on Cas with laser intensity as the pleasure sparks and coils in him.  Slowly, he slides the hand from his chest down to cup his balls, rolling them as the hand on his cock moves faster and faster.  Cas’s eyes widen and his own breathing quickens.  He reaches one hand to rest on Dean’s shoulder and Dean comes.  

He comes hard, with his toes curling and his hips lifting off the bed.  He’s still panting when Cas reaches for him.

 “Let’s get this off you,” he says as he unbuckles and removes the collar.  Then he gathers Dean in his arms and Dean burrows into him, nestling his head on Cas’s shoulder.  

 “Wow,” Dean says, making Cas laugh softly.

 “Was that good?  Did you like it?”  Cas asks and all Dean can do is nod and make an inarticulate pleased sound.  

 Cas holds him for a nice long time and Dean thinks he could just drift off now, but then Cas pulls back a little. 

 “Let me check you out,” he says as he takes Dean’s hands to examine his wrists.  “Okay, good.  No red marks.”  He kisses each one softly, then moves his hands to Dean’s face, studying it with concern.   “Dammit, you’ve got a scrape on your chin.  Probably from my zipper,” he runs a finger gently over it.  “I’m sorry, I should’ve taken them all the way off.”

Dean touches his finger to the spot.  It stings a little now, but he never felt it happen at the time.  

 “It’s fine,” he says.  “I’m fine.”  He snuggles back up against Cas.  “What about you?  Did you like it? “

 Cas kisses him on the forehead.  “It felt a little strange at first,” he admits.  “And that’s not even what I had planned, but God, you were so hot like that so I ended up improvising.”  He touches the scrape on Dean’s chin again.  “I thought keeping my clothes on while you were naked would be a good way to demonstrate the power differential.”  Cas sounds quite pleased with himself and Dean smiles because it’s such a _Cas_ thing to say. “Did that work for you?”  

 “It was frustrating not to be able to touch you.  Having your clothes on made it even worse.  Or better,” Dean shrugs, sill hazy with pleasure.  “Jesus, all you did was touch me and _bam_.”

 “That _was_ extremely gratifying.” Cas says, and it’s Dean’s turn to laugh.  

 ****

Dean goes about the next day with a little extra spring in his step. Sex with Cas has always been amazing, but this is like finding a hidden room in a house you’ve already come to love. He thinks back to the moment when his brain clicked off and how strange and free it felt. Afterwards, he’d felt sleepy, but clear-headed, almost like he’d been meditating. Like he’d been meditating while having a mind-blowing orgasm.  

 When he gets a free minute, he takes out his phone to text Cas.  **Seriously, dude, you put your hand on my shoulder and that was it**. 

 He knows Cas is in the middle of class so he’s surprised to get a quick response.  **_Clearly I have the magic touch._**

  **We should do that again.  Soon.**

  ** _I’ll see you at home_. **

 Dean’s in the kitchen when Cas gets home that evening.  He can’t keep the stupid grin off his face as he turns to watch Cas walk towards him.  “Hi,” he says, almost shyly, which is ridiculous.  

 “Hi, yourself,” Cas says, and kisses him.

 “Dinner’s just about ready,” Dean says, pulling the lasagna out of the oven.  

 “Want me to set the table?”

 “That’d be great.”

 They sit and eat and talk about their days.  

 “Got a lot of work tonight?” Dean asks, and Cas knows exactly what he’s getting at.

 “So,” he says, and Dean’s back to that stupid grin. “We probably need to figure this part of it out.”

 “What part is that, exactly?”

 “How often we’re going to do this,” Cas says,  “Last night was great, but—“  

 Dean feels his stomach sink.  This is when Cas tells him that he’s just not that into it. 

  “Hey,” Cas says, reaching across the table for his hand.  “Let me finish.”

 Dean squeezes his hand and works to put a neutral look on his face.

 “Last night was great, but I don’t want it to be the only way we have sex.  And there’s a certain amount of preparation that has to be done, so I think we need to plan it out a little bit.”

 Dean relaxes because leave it to Cas to be organized about this.  “You’re right.  So, like a schedule or something?”

 “I don’t need it to be anything that formal,” Cas says, thinking.  “But we should agree on it ahead of time.”

 “That makes sense.”

 Cas squints at him.  “Did you think I was going to say I didn’t want to do it any more?”

 Dean shrugs, pushing a forkful of pasta around on his plate.  “It would’ve been okay if you had.”

 “I put my hand on your shoulder,” Cas says each word slowly, with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows, “and that was it.”

****

 The weekend comes and goes and Cas doesn’t bring it up again.  Dean doesn’t either, because this whole thing was his idea and he doesn’t want to push.  But that doesn’t mean he isn’t thinking about it. 

 He’s at work on Wednesday when his phone chimes with a text.

  ** _How about tonight?_**

 Maybe Dean should let the question hang there for awhile.  Maybe leave Cas in suspense…

 Screw that.

  **It’s a date**

 


	3. Chapter 3

When they go upstairs that night, Cas takes the collar from where he’s been keeping it in the drawer of his night stand.  “Ready?”

 Dean sits on the bed while Cas buckles on the collar.  He stops to admire it, running his hands along Dean’s shoulders and down his arms.  Dean looks up at him through his lashes.   Cas laughs.  

 “Don’t play coy with me.  Get undressed.”

 Dean does and stands in front of Cas with his hands at his side.  

 “I’m not going to pin your hands tonight.  But it’s your job to stay as still as you can.  Do you understand?”

 Dean feels a chill pass through him even though the room is warm.  “I understand.”

 “Clasp your hands behind your back.  That should help.”

 As soon as Dean does, Cas drops to his knees.  Dean blinks in surprise as Cas runs his hands up and down Dean’s thighs, kneading into the muscle there.  He’d gotten half hard just from putting on the collar and now his cock twitches.  He says a silent prayer that Cas doesn’t consider that moving.  Cas buries his face in the crease of Dean’s thigh, kissing and licking a line up to his hip bone.  Dean works to control his breathing as Cas scrapes his teeth over the bone then nuzzles across the softness of his stomach to the other side.  Cas swirls his tongue around the other hip bone and kisses his way down Dean’s thigh, stopping to suck a few bruises into the soft skin there.  Working his way back up, Cas darts his tongue over Dean’s balls before ghosting his mouth along Dean’s length.  Dean sucks in a deep breath and tightens the grip of his right hand around his left wrist.  He holds perfectly still as he feels a  kiss on the head of his cock, earning a murmured _Good_ from Cas.  

 Maybe Cas will ease him into this.  Maybe Cas will continue with these soft, teasing movements while he gets his bearings.  Maybe not, he realizes, as Cas dispenses with formalities and takes all of Dean into his mouth in one quick motion.  Dean bites his lip before he remembers that Cas never told him he had to be quiet, then he lets a hiss escape.  He tries not to rock forward into the heat of Cas’s mouth and he’s doing pretty well until Cas pulls off, but stays close enough that Dean can feel his hot breath on his spit-slick skin.  Then his hips flick ever so slightly and Cas pulls further away, removing his hands from Dean’s legs as well.  

 Dean takes a deep breath in through his nose and regroups, squaring his shoulders and locking his body into place.  He can feel Cas’s eyes on him, but he can’t look at Cas right now, so he stares straight ahead, trying to use the center of the closet door as his focal point.  The room is still and quiet, with only the sound of their breathing.  Cas regards him awhile longer, then taps gently on the back of Dean’s knee.  Dean realizes he has his knees locked and when he relaxes them to Cas’s satisfaction, Cas leans forward again, both hands gripping Dean’s ass, the slow, wet, heat of his mouth closing around Dean’s throbbing cock.  As he picks up a steady rhythm, Dean digs his fingernails into his wrist.  He wants so badly to touch Cas, to bury his hands in his hair or grip his shoulders.  He wants to move.  He wants to flick his hips to meet each bob of Cas’s head.  Instead, he grits his teeth against the whimpers forming in the back of his throat and forces himself to concentrate on every place he can feel Cas touching him.  Now he notices the soft brush of Cas’s hair against his stomach and the way his left knee is up against the edge of Dean’s right foot.  

 Just when Dean thinks he can’t take anymore, his thighs beginning to quiver, Cas pulls off.  Dean squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself not to move.  Cas gets to his feet and takes Dean’s face gently in his hands.  He kisses his cheek, just a graze of lips, really and Dean feels his shoulders sag a little bit at this respite.  

 It doesn’t last long.

 “On the bed.  Hands and knees.”

 Dean does as he’s told, taking two handfuls of the comforter as he gets into position.  A few long moments stretch into long minutes of nothingness.  No sound from Cas, no touch, no footsteps and he’s tempted to look over his shoulder, worried that maybe Cas left the room, just left him here exposed and alone.  His heart starts to pound at the thought but he calms himself because even if Cas went away, he’ll always come back.  And even if he left, it’s because he has a reason.  And maybe the reason is for Dean to remember that.  For Dean to remind himself how much he trusts Cas.  Even when he’s naked, in nothing but a collar.  _Especially_ when he’s naked, in nothing but a collar.  

 The minutes continue with nothing but Dean’s measured breathing until without warning, there’s a hand on the back of his neck and Dean knows to put his head down on the bed.  He focuses on the feel of the fabric in his hands, clenching it a little more tightly to ground him.  He feels the bed sink as Cas kneels behind him.  “Same rules as before.  Hands behind your back.”

 Of course, Dean thinks, and he slowly and reluctantly opens his hands.  Too slowly, apparently, because he feels the flick of Cas’s finger on the back of his thigh.  It doesn’t hurt, but it’s enough to jar him into action.  He rests his forehead on the comforter and clasps his wrist behind his back.  Once he does, Cas puts both hands on his ass, pulling it apart to drag a thumb over his hole.  Dean holds in a gasp as he hears the click of the lube bottle opening.  Where did that even come from?  Dean never heard the drawer open.  Did Cas have it in his pocket all along?  His train of thought comes to a screeching halt as Cas drizzles lube down the cleft of his ass, one finger following the cold liquid all the way down across his hole to the underside of his balls.   Torturously slowly, he drags his finger back up again, pressing ever so slightly at his entrance before gliding back up.  Slowly and methodically he runs his finger up and down, up and down, shortening the distance each time until he’s only running it over Dean’s hole, catching the rim each time.  Adding more lube, he works in slow circles, dipping in, then pulling back.  Dean presses his forehead into the bed, moaning.  The comforter is bunched up and he could grab it in his teeth to alleviate the burning frustration, a distraction from the ache building between his shoulders.   But he doesn’t.  Because if Cas thinks he can do this, then he can.  A shudder runs through him, but he stays still and Cas rewards him by resting a palm on the small of his back while he pushes one finger all the way inside.  

 “Oh, Dean,”  Cas says.

Dean feels the sweat beading on his forehead.  The need to push back against Cas’s finger is nearly overwhelming.  With his face so close to the bed, the heat of his own breath is reflected back at him and he’s starting to feel a little lightheaded.  Just then Cas adds a second finger and curls them to brush against his prostate.  The ache in his shoulders disappears and the only thing in his world are Cas’s fingers and his voice.

 “Look at the way you open up for me.” he says as he adds a third finger.  “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve this.”  

 Dean’s only vaguely aware of Cas’s other hand moving from his back.  From far away he hears a rustle of clothing and the click of the bottle again.  Cas pulls out his fingers and in nearly the same moment, Dean feels the head of Cas’s cock push inside in a smooth motion.  Hands grip Dean’s waist and he hears Cas but there’s nothing but the fullness inside him and the pounding of his own blood in his ears.  Cas says something again, lifts a hand from his hip, and Dean whimpers until the fog clears enough for him to realize Cas is tapping his hands and giving him permission to move.  Dean braces his arms under him and arches his back, meeting every thrust with a gasp.  Cas licks a stripe up his spine as he reaches around with his lube-slick hand and strokes Dean’s cock, keeping pace with their rhythm.  Cas drives into him and Dean hears the sound of the bed creaking and their skin slapping together.  Dean’s vision begins to tunnel as his orgasm builds and he collapses down onto his forearms with the force of his climax.  Cas follows him over the edge a moment later, pressing his face into the back of Dean’s neck as he catches his breath.

 Cas unbuckles the collar even before he slides out of him and they fall onto the bed side by side.  “You were amazing,” Cas says, wrapping Dean in his arms.  Dean breathes in the familiar green apple scent of Cas’s hair and clutches him tightly.  “Doing okay?” Cas asks, pulling back enough to look Dean in the eye.  

 “Sleepy, but good,” Dean practically purrs and tries to snuggle up again.

 “Hang on,” Cas says, “I’m going to get you a washcloth and something to drink.” 

 “No, stay here.”  Dean reaches for him.

 “I promise I’ll be right back.  Or do you want to come with me?”

 Dean considers it, but the thought of navigating the stairs has him shaking his head.  “Don’t take too long.”

 Cas kisses him.  “I promise.”

 Dean turns to watch Cas as he leaves the room.  From that angle he catches sight of the clock on the bed side table and he frowns at it.  Over an hour and a half have passed since they came upstairs.   Dean thought they’d been at it for maybe a half hour, forty-five minutes tops.   He stretches and pulls the covers up to his chin, listening to Cas rattle around downstairs.  He’s nearly drifted off when Cas comes back.  

 “Hey,” he says.  “Sit up and drink some of this.”  

 When Dean has a firm grip on the glass, Cas steps into the bathroom, coming back out with a damp washcloth and a bottle of Motrin.  The ice water revives Dean a bit and he reaches for the washcloth, but Cas shakes his head.  

 “I can do it,” Dean says.

 “I know you can.  But let me.”  Cas begins to clean him off, gently and thoroughly.  “How are your shoulders?  That was a long time for you to have your hands back.”

 “They feel fine,” Dean says, rolling them to test.

 “They’ll be sore tomorrow.”  Cas unscrews the lid on the bottle of pain reliever and shakes two out into his hand.  “Here.”

 Dean swallows them down with the rest of the water while Cas gets undressed.  Cas takes the glass and sets it on the night stand then climbs into bed, pulling the covers over both of them.  He pulls Dean against him, Dean’s back to his chest, and presses his lips just behind Dean’s ear.  Dean melts into his embrace.  

 “That wasn’t too much, was it?” 

 But Dean is too cozy to answer.  

 “I love you.” Cas says.

 “You too,” Dean manages before he sinks into sleep.

****

Dean wakes the next morning fifteen minutes before their alarm is set to go off.  He rolls closer to Cas, wincing at the ache in his shoulders.  Cas throws an arm around him, pulling him in, and Dean has to drag himself out of their warm cocoon when the alarm sounds.  Dean’s shift starts before Cas’s first class, so he showers while Cas brews coffee and cooks up eggs.

“How’re you feeling today?” Cas asks as he hands a mug to Dean.

 Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes at his mother hen.  “Fine.”

 “Did you want some more Motrin this morning?”

 Dean took some upstairs, but instead of telling Cas that, he shakes his head.  “Don’t need it,” he says as they sit down to eat.

When it’s time for Dean to go, he kisses Cas goodbye.  Cas tugs at his sleeve.  “I’m gonna be late,” Dean grumbles, but he lets Cas pull him back for another kiss.  

 At work, Dean tries to shake off the headachy lethargy he’s feeling.  If he were back in the service bay, he could get away with slacking a little, but of course Benny has called off sick today so he’s stuck at the front counter, checking in customers and handling scheduling and billing.  It’s supremely unfair that Cas gets to sit in a lecture hall where nobody can tell if he’s even paying attention while Dean has to deal with a steady stream of idiots. It takes all of his effort to stay polite and professional and something nags at him, just out of reach of his conscious mind.   By mid-morning he’s chewed a raw spot on the inside of his cheek and when he gets a breather around 11:00,  he slips outside to send a text. 

  **Can we have lunch?**

 Two minutes later, his phone rings.

 “What’s wrong?” Cas sounds concerned.  Concerned enough that he stepped out of class to call him instead of texting back.

 “Nothing,” Dean says automatically.  “I— I just want to see you.”

 “Of course,” Cas says.  “I’ll pick up lunch and come to you.”

 They sit in the Impala eating sandwiches and chips.  Cas keeps looking at him with big eyes until Dean snaps.  “Would you stop looking at me like that?”

 “Like what?”

 “Like I’m going to break.”

 “So, I’m not supposed to be worried?  When you call and ask to see me in the middle of the day? After the night we had last night?”

 “Sorry for inconveniencing you.”  Dean mutters.

 “Dean.”

 Dean crunches a chip with unnecessary force.  “Okay, fine,” he finally says.  “I might be dropping a little.”

 Cas smiles and reaches for his hand.  “I’m glad you admitted it.  I knew if I brought it up, you’d deny it.”

Dean would like to argue with that, but it happens to be entirely true, so he doesn’t. “I don’t like that I can’t just snap back to feeling ‘regular’ again.”

 “It’s the hormones and endorphins.  You can’t reason with them,” Cas soothes.

 “It’s more than that,” Dean says, turning in his seat to face Cas.  “Something’s been bugging me and I figured out what it is.”

 “Tell me,” Cas says but Dean can tell by the way he’s holding himself that he’s braced for something bad.

 “You take the collar off me so quickly.  It’s like you want to sweep the whole thing under the rug as soon as we’re done.  Like you can’t wait to have it over with.”

 Cas blinks, considering. “You’d like to leave the collar on longer?” 

 “I think it would help with the transition,” Dean says.  “It’s too sudden this way and it makes me feel like you’re ashamed of what we’ve done.”

“That’s not it at all,” Cas says.  “I just want to be able to hold you after, without it being complicated.”

 “You can hold me while I have it on.  In fact, it’s probably better if you do.”

 (The next time, Cas leaves the collar on afterwards, showering Dean with kisses and praise.   Dean relaxes into Cas’s arms, and touches the leather lightly with his fingertips, as Cas tells him he loves him.  

 “I think I’d like to sleep with it on,” Dean ventures.  “Is that okay with you?”

 “Well,” Cas says, seeing that he’s wearing the collar and nothing else,  “here’s hoping the house doesn’t catch fire tonight.”

 “That’s probably a good thing to hope for on any given night,” Dean reasons.  “But if it does, I’ll grab one of your ties on the way out.  Nobody will suspect a thing.”)

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean’s clicking through the Maybe folder.  “So I’m the one who put pain play in here.” 

 Cas chews on a pen and looks at him.  “I don’t know about that.”

 “Why not?”

 “I’m not sure what you’d get out of it.  Or me, for that matter.”

 Dean straightens up from where he’s been staring at the screen.  “Okay, here’s the thing.  Every time we scene, I come out of it on the other side feeling a little stronger.  More confident.”  He stops and thinks for a moment.  “It’s something about stepping out of my comfort zone and challenging myself.  This would be another way to do that. Does that even make any sense?“

  “It does.  But what if I don’t want to hit you?”

 “I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” Dean reassures him.  “But—“

 “Here we go,” Cas says, rolling his eyes fondly.

  “But maybe don’t think about it as wanting to hit me.  Maybe think about it as you giving me something I want. Besides,”  he adds quickly, leaning over the laptop again and typing a few words into the search bar.  “What about something like this?”  A variety of paddles in various shapes and sizes fills the screen.  “It’s just another prop, really.  Like the cuffs or a vibrator.”

 Cas frowns in concentration and pulls the computer towards him.  “Let me look at those.”

****

The first night they use the paddle, Cas directs Dean to kneel on the bed, hands on the headboard.  Cas experiments a little bit, making Dean wait while he swings the paddle through the air, testing its weight and heft. Dean’s helped him to warm up to the idea a little bit by adding some more roughness into the nights when they’re not scening.  He’s made it clear that he likes when Cas tugs on his hair or bites on his shoulder and it’s not like Cas has ever treated him like he was fragile.  It’s just another rung on the ladder of how they’ve always been together, Cas getting Dean right where he wants him, Dean content and pliant in his hands.  

 But tonight, his first attempt on Dean is a half-hearted swat.  Dean waits patiently but the second one is practically a near miss.  Dean can hear Cas trying it on himself, on the inside of his forearm, and he’s pretty damn sure that Cas is using more force on himself than he is on Dean.  Maybe this isn’t going to work.  Dean sighs and lets go of the headboard, pivoting around to drop to a seated position on the bed.  “Cas.”

 He realizes his mistake immediately when the surprised look on Cas’s face turns to one of displeasure.  His mouth hardens with determination and there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there a moment ago.  He cocks one eyebrow and flicks his wrist, silently gesturing with the paddle toward the headboard.

 Dean scrambles back into position and the moment both of his hands take hold, the first blow falls.  The second one follows soon after.  And the third.  Dean tightens his grip on the wood and focuses on breathing.  Cas quickly masters swinging the paddle with swift, sharp precision, varying his target so as not to overlap the blows.  In a matter of minutes, Dean’s ass and the top of his thighs burn with prickly, itchy heat.  With each slap, Dean’s hips push forward, and he flushes when he realizes he’s rock hard and leaking.  The heat from his reddened skin seems to flow through his entire body and he’s getting desperate for something rub or grind against. Lost in the frenzy of sensation, he lifts a hand from the headboard and starts to bring it towards his body.  It’s just a flash of movement, one that he quickly reverses, but Cas sees it and Dean hears the paddle clatter to the floor as Cas climbs onto the bed to kneel behind him.  

 “When we’re together like this, you have two jobs,” Cas growls in his ear.  “Follow my directions and trust me.”  Dean shudders as one arm wraps around his waist and the other hand goes straight to his cock, stroking him roughly.   “If you are unable to do that, then you’ll need to find yourself another Dom.”  Cas pulls him backwards and Dean hisses as his tender flesh makes contact with the rough denim of Cas’s jeans.  “But I can assure you that you’ll never find anyone else who will take care of you the way I do.“  Cas bites his way along the top of  Dean’s shoulder, yanking hard on the collar with his teeth and as he continues to jack him.  Dean gasps as Cas grinds against him, the pain of the friction dulled by the promise of Cas’s erection, fiercely evident through his clothes.  “There’s nobody else who will give you what you need.”  Cas’s tone is as insistent as the hand he drags up from Dean’s waist to pinch one nipple, then the other.  Dean tosses his head back to rest on Cas’s shoulder, baring his throat as his hips snap forward, thrusting in Cas’s hand, the pace nearly frantic now. “Come for me,” Cas says and Dean does.

 As soon as he’s able to coordinate movement in his limbs, Dean turns and reaches desperately for the button on Cas’s jeans, because Cas hasn’t said he can’t.  But Cas stills his hands.  “I want that,” he says, breathing heavily, “but not until you’re ready to take off the collar for tonight.”  Dean doesn’t hesitate, just inclines his head forward for Cas to unbuckle it.  Then he lays Cas down on his back and begins to undress him, kissing and caressing each new bit of skin that he uncovers.  Cas throws a forearm over his eyes and lets Dean minister to him, lets him knead his calf and kiss his ankle, breathes while Dean sucks on his fingers and nuzzles his jaw.  Cas reaches one hand to glide through Dean’s hair as Dean takes him in his mouth, before letting it drift off to the side so that he’s hanging on to the comforter instead of Dean.  Dean keeps his mouth soft, licking and kissing, letting Cas set the pace.  He waits until Cas starts to moan and shift beneath him before he sucks in earnest, one hand kneading the muscle of Cas’s thigh, the other splayed across his chest.  Cas comes with a strangled cry and Dean swallows it all, resting his forehead on Cas’s stomach after the last waves course through his body.

 Dean stretches out alongside Cas—they’ve ended up with their heads at the foot of the bed— and gently uncovers his eyes.  “Don’t hide from me,” he whispers.

 "Did I hurt you?” Cas asks, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

 “I’m fine, Cas.  You surprised me a little, but I’m good.  Better than good.”

 Dean strokes the hair back from Cas’s forehead and neither of them say anything for awhile. 

 “That was….intense,” Cas says.

 “That was _awe_ some,” Dean says.  “I’ll be right back,” he adds, pressing a kiss to Cas’s temple.  In the bathroom he grabs a washcloth then stops to pull a cold bottle of water from the mini fridge they’ve put in the bedroom so that Cas no longer has to go all the way downstairs.   He pulls Cas to a sitting position and hands him the water.  “Drink,” he says gently as he wipes him off with the cloth.  They share the water then rearrange themselves the right way around on the bed.  

 “You doing okay?” It’s freaking Dean out a little that Cas is so quiet.  Like he’s folded in on himself.  There’s another long stretch of silence before Cas responds.

 “I think I walked right up to the edge of my control.”  

 “But you didn’t go past it.”  

 “You trusted me?” 

 “I did.  I _do_.”

 Cas sighs.  “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

 “I know better than to stop and correct you while I’m wearing the collar,”  Dean says.

 “I should have—wait.” Cas pushes up on one elbow to look at him.  “Are you saying you intentionally provoked me?”

 “Um.  Unless you’re mad.  In which case I totally didn’t.” Dean smiles at him, but Cas looks deadly serious. 

 He takes Dean’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together, his voice a hoarse whisper.  “I would never want you to find somebody else.  Never.  I didn’t mean that.”

 “I know.  I know you didn’t.“ He pulls Cas against his chest, stroking his hair and rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. “And I would never want anybody else. I love you.“

 “I love you, too.” Cas says, but he’s trembling a little.  “I didn’t mean it.”

****

In the morning, Dean wakes first.  He checks to see that Cas is sleeping peacefully, then pulls back the covers and sits up, pressing his lips together when his ass makes full contact with the bed.  He carefully pulls on pajama pants and creeps downstairs to make coffee.  By the time he carries two mugs back upstairs, Cas is awake.  He scrunches the pillow behind his back and sits up as Dean walks around the bed to hand him his coffee.

 “You don’t have to coddle me,” Cas says, but he’s smiling.

 “Since when is coffee in bed coddling?” Dean places his own mug on the bedside table as he gets back under the covers, but Cas doesn’t miss the way he gingerly sits. He hears the clunk as Cas sets his mug down hard.

“Dean.  Shit.  Let me look at you.”

“Cas, I’m fine.  It’s just a little sore.”

Cas gets out of bed and strides to the bathroom.  “I bought some aloe gel,” he calls over his shoulder.

Dean takes off the pajama bottoms and rolls onto his stomach, his head pillowed on his folded arms. Cas sits on the edge of the bed next to him, studying him silently.  He huffs out a dissatisfied breath before lightly spreading the blessedly cool gel onto Dean’s red skin. “I should’ve have taken care of this last night.”

 “Cas.” Cas dabs a little more gel on his thigh before meeting Dean’s eyes.  “You know I like it when you mark me.”  Cas looks unconvinced, but Dean knows he’s thinking about the marks he’s left on Dean since the very beginning.  Bruises sucked into his collarbone and along his waist, bite marks on his shoulder.  “This is the same kind of thing.  Something for me to have as a reminder that I’m yours.”

Cas looks at his ass again.  “Maybe I should just buy you a fucking ring,” he mutters.

Dean rolls onto his side.  “What?”

 Cas looks at him.  “I’m buying you a ring.”


	5. Chapter 5

 If the interactions Dean’s had at the garage this week are any indication, people in general are getting stupider by the day.  And speaking of stupid, he’s pretty sure he tanked the test he took in Behavioral Psych.  Probably he should just drop the class.  He’s two years older than Cas but Cas is in grad school while Dean’s technically still a freshman, piecing together a class or two each semester.  It’s glacially slow and probably not worth the time or the money.  When he floated the idea of dropping the class a few days ago, Cas dismissed it with, “Now probably isn’t the time to make that decision.”  Like Dean is on his fucking period or something.  He rolls his shoulders, trying to alleviate the knot of tension that’s been there all day then pulls out his phone and checks it yet again.  He’s left two voicemails for Sam this week, with no response back.  School and playing house with Jess are taking up all of his time, clearly bumping Dean down more than a few notches on his priority list. 

 He takes a moment to admire the ring on his left hand (their official engagement story alludes vaguely to a “romantic breakfast in bed”), running his thumb over the forged silver honeycomb and turning it to catch the light.  He could use something to look forward to.

  **How about tonight?** He texts Cas, the same phrase they’ve used since the start.  

  ** _Are you sure?_**

Dean rolls his eyes.  He asked, didn’t he?  Cas usually responds with an enthusiastic yes or an explanation of why it’s a no.  None of this questioning bullshit. Cas can be in charge all he wants when they’re scening, but Dean doesn’t need him second-guessing his decisions outside of that. He types, then deletes, a snarky response.

 **Yes** he sends back.

****

That night Cas brings  the “toy box” out of the closet and Dean is more than happy to see him pull out the cuffs.  Sometimes he likes the challenge of submitting when there’s nothing stopping him from moving, when it’s all a matter of focused determination but sometimes, like tonight, he likes being restrained, likes the way the entire matter is taken out of his hands.  Once the collar is on, Dean undresses and lies flat on his back as Cas busies himself with the cuffs.  It takes a little maneuvering and not for the first time Dean wishes they’d gotten a four poster bed, but at the time they hadn’t anticipated the need for easy anchoring access.  When he’s done, Cas re-checks each wrist and ankle, making sure Dean verbally confirms that nothing is too tight or otherwise uncomfortable.  

 Cas starts by getting himself undressed, which isn’t unheard of, but makes for a special treat.  He’s taking his sweet time getting started and Dean tugs a little on the cuffs as he waits.  Cas’s eyes roam over his body and he lays a palm on his stomach, just rests it there for a moment.  He moves that hand to lightly squeeze Dean’s bicep, then briefly smooths his hair.  It’s lovely and gentle and Dean has no choice but to tolerate it as he closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, waiting for Cas to get down to business.  He hears Cas rummaging around in the box and feels a wave of anticipation wash over him.  This is more like it.  He keeps his eyes shut and wonders what Cas is choosing.  He knows as soon as he feels it trace a line down his sternum: the feather.  

 The fucking feather.  

 After that first experience, the paddle has only come out on a couple of occasions and then Cas merely employs for a single swat here and there, something to spur Dean into action when he’s not moving quickly enough.  But Cas likes the feather.  Dean doesn’t mind it, but it’s not his favorite.  It’s just a shiver of sensation, not even enough to tickle.  Not that Dean likes being tickled, but at least there’s skin on skin contact there, fingertips gliding along the back of his knee or poking into his sides.  The feather is simultaneously there and not there and everything is too light and soft for his liking.  

 Cas follows the line of the feather with his tongue, licking his way across Dean’s chest to circle a nipple.  Dean takes in a deep breath, but Cas just swirls his tongue a few times, then pulls back, leaving it to cool and harden in the air.  

 “Feel free to move as much as you’d like,” he says, and Dean rattles the restraints a little bit.  Cas continues in this vein, the feather followed by his tongue, but everything is in short, soft measures.  Cas dips his tongue into Dean’s navel, then follows the feather along the crease of his thigh, stopping to give his cock only a ghost of a touch.  Cas is clearly in no hurry and Dean tries to steady his own breathing as his irritation grows.  It’s one light, almost airy touch after another and Dean struggles harder now, the exasperation building  as Cas won’t give him enough to get him into the proper headspace. He bites back curses, but he can’t contain the noises of frustration he makes as the bindings yank against the wood of the bed frame, the leather sticking to his wrists as a fine layer of sweat coats him.  Cas kisses a line down the front of his shin and it’s a good thing Dean’s ankles are restrained because he’d like to kick Cas away and spur him into real action.  Dean doesn’t have a lot of room to thrash, but he’s doing his damnedest and Cas needs two hands to hold his leg while he runs a thumb under the leather. By the time Cas unlocks his ankles, Dean’s panting.

  _Finally_ , he thinks.  Maybe Cas is going to push his knees up and fuck him.  Even better, maybe he’ll do it with the bare minimum of prep so Dean can lock on to that searing sting.  Dean spreads his knees in anticipation as Cas crawls between his legs and reaches to un-cuff his right hand.  

 “It’s my job to know what you need,” he says and Dean nods, arching his hips up in a search for friction.  Cas taps him firmly on the middle of the forehead.

 “Yes,” Dean says.

 “It’s my job to know what you need and give it to you,” he says, freeing Dean’s left hand.

 “Yes,” Dean says again.

 “And you trust me,”

 “Yes,” Dean’s going to burst if Cas doesn’t stop talking and give him something to work with here.

 Cas slides both hands through Dean’s hair, then unbuckles the collar and tosses it to the floor.

 “What the _fuck,_ Cas.”

  Dean’s pissed enough to push Cas off of him and he would if his limbs weren’t stiff from the restraints.  Cas uses this to his advantage and stretches out on top of Dean, one hand on either side of his face.

 “I’m fully aware that tomorrow is the anniversary of your mother’s death,” he says.

 Dean pushes his hands away and rolls out from under him, curling into a ball on his side.  Cas curls up behind him and holds him as he cries.  Cries in loud, open-mouthed sobs that never would have surfaced if Cas hadn’t driven him to the brink of frustration like that.

  _Oh._

 He turns then to face Cas and bury his head in his neck.  He cries for his mother and for the broken little boy he’ll always carry inside him and for the relief of having Cas’s arms around him, sheltering him from the world.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dean's ring](https://www.etsy.com/listing/97060093/silver-honeycomb-ring-with-gold-honey)
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>  I had to take liberties with the time frame here, so forgive me for not sticking to the canon date of Mary's death.


	6. Chapter 6

Cas scheduled tonight’s session by asking Dean a few days ahead of time, like a save-the-date kind of thing.  It all hinted at a significant amount of planning and that’s had Dean’s mind whirring with possibilities.  Dean can’t even begin to imagine what Cas has come up with, but the thought of something new and unknown has him walking around in a bit of a lust-filled daze.  

When they get upstairs, Cas buckles Dean into the collar but tells him to keep his clothes on.  That’s new.  Dean eyes him suspiciously but follows his next instruction which is simply to sit on the bed.  Dean tries to make himself comfortable, but wearing the collar with clothes makes him feel bundled up.  The neck of his henley is open, but it still feels like he has a couple of extra layers pressing on his throat.  Cas watches him reach one hand up to adjust the collar, but the fit is exactly the same as it always is.  

Cas stands with his hands behind his back and waits for Dean to settle in.  “Tonight we’re going to try something a little different,” he says and that right there is enough to make Dean’s mouth water.  _Like one of Pavlov’s freaking dogs_. He swallows and studies Cas who has positioned himself at the foot of the bed like a professor leading a lecture.  Oh, maybe that’s it, Dean thinks.  Some kind of teacher/naughty student action?  Dean’s not really into role playing but he can see where this might be a kink for Cas, what with all those years in academia.  If that’s what Cas wants, well, Dean has no doubt he can muster up a little something that would require the need for discipline.  He suppresses a smile and tries to look suitably docile.  

 “Tonight we’re going to focus on communication,” and dude, he is _totally_ getting the lesson plan here.  Maybe Cas picked up one of those long pointer thingies that professors use on blackboards or whiteboards or whateverboards.  “Tonight you’re going to ask for what you want.”  

 Dean squints at Cas (talk about role play).  Does this mean he has to pick what they do?  Isn’t that the exact opposite of what’s supposed to happen when he’s wearing the collar?  Is that why he’s still fully clothed?  Is today some sort of Dom/sub opposite day?  His hand goes to the collar again, just a quick touch to reassure himself that it’s there.

 Cas sits next to him on the bed.  “You’re good at letting me know what you like once I do it, but you never tell me what you want.  Tonight I want you to tell me.”

 Cas has got to see the look of panic in Dean’s eyes.  Because this is isn’t even in the same hemisphere as his comfort zone.  _Cas_ is the one who likes to talk in bed.  Not Dean.  Dean will gasp and writhe and even moan, but other than a few half formed syllables— _Cas_ , _God_ , and _yeah_ seem to have all-purpose application—Dean does Not. Talk. In. Bed.   Maybe it stems from all the motels and shabby apartments where he was always sharing space with his dad and brother.  He spent a lot of time with his face buried in a pillow, muffling anything that might give him away as he touched himself, secret and shameful under the covers.  The shame is long gone, but by now the silence is like another sign of his arousal: cock hard, nipples stiff, voice off.

 “Dean,” Cas says, his voice firm and Dean knows to meet his gaze.  “We’ll take this slow.”

 Dean nods and Cas raises both eyebrows in a look that says _Really?_

 “Okay,” he adds quickly and _shit._   He is fucking this up already.

 “Let’s start with yes or no questions.”

 “Okay.”

 “Would you like me to turn off the light?”

 “Yes.” Thank you Jesus-who-probably-doesn’t-want-any-part-of-this.  But he could kiss Cas for giving him this tiniest of gifts.  Cas reaches over to turn off the lamp and Dean lets out a long breath.

 “Would you like to get undressed?” 

 “Yes.”

 “Would you like me to do it?”

 Ah.  Any other time, that would be an excellent offer.  Dean could lie there and let Cas take his time, slowly sliding things off him, but Dean already feels uneasy being dressed while he’s in the collar.  The sooner he’s naked—especially while Cas is still fully clothed—the more comfortable he’s going to be.

But what if that’s the wrong answer?

“Dean.”

“Uh.  No.”  Should he say no, thank you?  It feels like maybe he should say no, thank you.  Just to be polite.  

“All right.  Get yourself undressed.”  

Dean stands and hurriedly pulls off his clothes, dropping them in a pile on the floor before sitting back down next to Cas.

“Would you like me to touch you?”

Yes.  But also, maybe not.  Because he’s kind of pissed right now.  He doesn’t want to do this.  It’s beyond stupid.  

Instead of answering, Dean stands up and paces agitatedly around the room.  Cas switches the lamp back on and regards him from the bed.  

“This is total bullshit.  It’s stupid and I’m not doing it.  You know why?  Because it’s complete bullshit. Fuck you and fuck this.”

“Goodness, Dean,” Cas says mildly,  “Do you kiss your Dom with that mouth?”

“Fuck off.  It’s not funny.  It’s not. I don’t want to do it and you’re an asshole to ask me to.”

Cas looks at him evenly, unaffected by his heated response.  “If you wish to put a stop to this, you can do so with a single word.”

Dean is going to kill him.

He’s absolutely going to murder him.

But what he’s _not_ going to do is safeword out of this and Cas damn well knows it.  If he were going to, he would’ve already.  Which is why Cas is sitting there calmly during his entire naked freak-out.  

Dean stops pacing and tries to pull it together.  Cas wouldn’t have asked for this if he didn’t think Dean could do it.   Cas isn’t here to humiliate him.  He’s here to push his boundaries a bit and see what they can find together in the uncharted territory.

Cas crooks a single finger at him and Dean sits back down on the bed.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Cas says.  “Light on or off?”

“Off.”

“Would you like me to touch you?” Cas asks again.  

Dean sits in silence for a long moment.  “Could you just, um, take my hand?”

There’s a long pause and now Dean’s worried that he’s done something wrong by not sticking to yes or no.  But then Cas says “Of course,” and reaches for his hand.  “You’re doing very well,” he adds, giving it a little squeeze.  Dean squeezes back.  Only is it a squeeze if you don’t unsqueeze?  Basically Dean has Cas’s hand in a vice grip.  

“I’d like to kiss you,” Cas says.  “Can I do that?”

“Yes,” Dean says, without hesitation.  

Cas leans in to kiss him.  They hold hands, their knees bump a little, Cas’s mouth is all over his and Dean thinks he might be able to relax a little bit but now, along with feeling stupid and self-conscious, he’s worried that maybe this is something Cas has been unhappy about for a long time.  Like, from the start.  Cas is the one who likes to talk in bed.  Cas is the one who will purr praise into Dean’s ear, telling him how amazing he is, telling him how good he feels.  It makes a shiver of pleasure run up Dean’s spine each time he hears it, especially when Cas is barely able to grit it out.  Of course Cas would want to hear it back.  God, Dean’s been disappointing him all this time. 

“Dean,”  Cas says, pulling his mouth away.  “Stop thinking.”

Dean takes a deep breath and tries to clear his mind.  

“Where next?” Cas asks.  “Neck or ear?”

“Neck,” Dean chooses and Cas kisses down the side of his neck, nipping at the skin where it meets his shoulder.  Dean sighs as Cas dips his tongue into the pulse point at the base of his throat then licks his way back up under his chin.  Dean lets his head loll back as Cas kisses and sucks and licks his way across to the other side, ending with his mouth just under the bolt of his jaw.  

“Ear now?” 

Here’s the thing.  Dean doesn’t feel the need to ask for anything because Cas generally covers all the bases.  Dean literally has no complaints.  Cas gets him off every single time and it’s always mind-blowingly good.

Although...

Every now and then, while Cas is licking the shell of his ear, Dean wishes he’d drag his teeth over the lobe instead.  Or sometimes when he has two fingers in his ass, Dean wishes he’d add that third one right away.  If Dean just waits a little bit, he eventually gets what he wants, and it’s all good.  Or Cas moves on to something else, moves from his ear to his nipple and the first thing is forgotten because it feels so freaking fantastic.  Because what Cas can do with his tongue is—

“Nipple,” Dean whispers and Cas immediately complies.  Dean sinks back to lie on the bed as Cas gently open-mouth kisses his nipple before sucking it into hardness.  He laps at it with his tongue and bites gently on it, making Dean squirm.  The other one hardens in response and Dean waits to feel the heat of Cas’s mouth surround it, but Cas seems completely focused on just this one.  Dean grits his teeth for a moment.

“Other one,” he says and Cas kisses his sternum before starting in on the other side.  

Their fingers are still interlaced and without even realizing it Dean starts to pull Cas’s hand downward.  

“Tell me,” Cas says and Dean makes a small, frustrated noise.

“Touch me,” he manages and Cas’s hand is on him, gripping just right.  Cas works him slowly, lazily almost as he stretches out alongside him.  

“This can go anyway you’d like,” he says.  “I can get you off just like this.  Or with my mouth.  It’s up to you.”

Dean rolls his hips a little and it’s getting increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts much less make verbal decisions.  “No,” he says, and shakes his head.

“No?” Cas’s hand falters for a minute.  “Neither of those?”  

Dean’s response is merely an intake of breath.

“You want me to fuck you?  Is that it?”

Dean thinks he could probably get away with just saying yes, but he’s trying, really he is. “That’s what I want.”  It comes out a little more breathless than he’d planned.

Cas sits up to get the lube out of the drawer and Dean shivers a little until he comes back, warm and solid next to him.  Cas kisses a trail down Dean’s side before kneeling between his legs.  Dean spreads his legs to accommodate him, humming a little just from the sound of the lube opening.  He feels one slick finger begin to trace its way from his sac downward.  Cas prods gently, then circles around, delving a little deeper each time.  

“Ready?” he asks, completely unnecessarily, but Dean answers him.

“Yes.”  

Cas presses one finger in, moving it slowly in and out as Dean adjusts to it.  “Tell me when you’re ready for another.”

Dean bends his knees a little more, tilting his hips to follow Cas’s movements.  He’s got one hand lightly tugging at his own hair, the other tracing the edge of the collar.  When that’s not enough, he says, “Now” and Cas quickly adds a second finger, keeping the rhythm steady as he spreads his fingers to scissor him open.  Dean’s still tight, but he says “Now” again and Cas makes a small noise that Dean knows means he’s filing this information away for later.  Maybe he’s surprised that Dean is ready so soon, but he doesn’t question it, just adds a third finger.  Dean gasps at the way it burns and stretches.  He plants his feet flat on the bed and pushes back against Cas’s hand.  The fullness is so overwhelming that the moment Cas finds his prostate, Dean’s hands fly down to grab the comforter and then he’s coming in waves onto his stomach.  

Cas slows his movements as Dean relaxes, then pulls his fingers out.  Dean opens his eyes to find Cas looking down at him, eyes wide.

“Well,” Cas says, “that was unexpected.”

Dean blinks at him and nods dumbly, still panting a little.

“Lesson learned,” Cas says, with a touch of pride.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean’s emptying the dish drainer while Cas does one last check of the guest room.  

“I think everything’s ready,” Cas says once he’s back downstairs.

“I should hope so.  That’s the third time you’ve checked,” Dean says, straightening up from where he’s set the frying pan onto the low shelf and closed the cabinet door.

“Anna’s our first visitor and I want her to like it here.”  Cas looks so earnest that Dean walks into the living room to take his hand.  “I didn’t have to think about anything in the old place.” 

Dean thinks back to the fully-furnished townhouse Cas had been living in when they first met.  As staged and impersonal as it had been, no small, comfortable detail had been overlooked.  Compared to that showpiece, their duplex is shabby and basic, but looking around, Dean is warmed to see their things mingled together everywhere.  Cas’s favorite novels share space on the bookshelf with Dean’s collection of cookbooks.  Their DVDs are organized alphabetically (Cas’s doing) in a plastic milk crate that once served as Dean’s night table in Pittsburgh.  The crate sits next to the television that Bobby bought them as a housewarming gift when they moved to Ann Arbor.

 Anna will be staying in Cas’s office which is technically their guest room.  With the futon transformed from its usual couch position to a bed, there isn’t much space to maneuver in the small room, but the mattress has been made up with clean sheets and the quilt that used to be on Dean’s bed in Lawrence and Cas has stacked his papers and books on one side of the desk, leaving Anna with a clear surface.  He even bought a bottle of her favorite shampoo to put in the shower.  

Cas frowns.  “I wonder if she needs a place to put her clothes.”

“She’s only here for the weekend.  And if she’s like every other college student I know, she’s got everything crammed into a backpack,” Dean says.  “Honestly, she’s probably just going to be happy to be out of the dorms for a few days.”

“You’re probably right,” Cas says in a voice that says he doesn’t think Dean is probably right.

Dean rolls his eyes and moves to pick up his keys from the hook by the front door.  “Time to go to the train station,” he announces.  “And time for you to stop channeling your mother,” he mutters under his breath.  All this focus on details and perfection reeks of Naomi’s influence.  

They drive the short distance to the Amtrak station and park in the lot.  A cold January wind is blowing as they walk inside, arriving with fifteen minutes to kill before the train pulls in from Illinois.  Dean finds two free seats and drops into one, but Cas stands right in his periphery, his hands shoved into his pockets.  Dean reaches up and tugs on his sleeve.  “Dude, sit down.  You’re making me crazy.”  

“I’m just worried that she’ll have a bad time.” Cas says, still staring out the window toward the tracks.

“You’re over-thinking things and everyone knows that’s _my_ job.” 

That earns a brief smile from Cas, who doesn’t so much as sit in the seat next to Dean as perch on the edge.  The roar of a train pulling into the station has Cas jerking up his head, then jumping to his feet.

“She’s not due for another 10 minutes,” Dean says, glancing at the display board.  “That’s the train from Toledo.”

“I’ll just double check,” Cas says, already heading for the information desk.

Dean slumps back in his chair and watches Cas walk away.  Over the past six months, there’s been a certain freedom they’ve experienced in having no one to answer to but each other.  No family commitments, no compromises to keep other people happy.  It’s been solely about the two of them.  With Dean being the new guy at the garage, he was stuck working the days around the holidays, so they’d spent Cas’s winter break in Michigan.  It was hard not to be with family, but it was nice to create (and negotiate) some traditions of their own. (Turns out Cas doesn’t believe in putting up the tree until Christmas Eve, a concession Dean was willing to make once Cas agreed to apple pie instead of pumpkin for Christmas dinner.)  And they’d been invited to Benny and Andrea’s for New Year’s, which turned into a fun night of beer and gumbo.

So even though they’re both excited to see Anna, Dean gets why Cas is on edge.  This is the first time someone from their “old” life will intersect with their new one. The fact that it's Anna adds another layer of complication. When they lived together in Lawrence, Anna had been to visit plenty of times, but her parents refused to let her spend the night at their house. They’d said it wasn’t proper for her to be there with a single man (meaning Sam) but it went unspoken that they weren’t comfortable with Dean and Cas sharing a bed.  Now that she's in college, she made the arrangements herself to come visit.  Her parents seem pleased that she'll be spending some time with her brother, but mostly they've decided to focus all their anxieties on her traveling alone, which has resulted in an increased flurry of phone calls from St Joseph to Ann Arbor.

Dean gets up to join Cas where he’s hovering around the arrivals door and they stand in silence until the train pulls in.  Anna is near the front of the group, her backpack slung over her shoulder.  She looks comfy in a purple Northwestern hoodie and jeans, her red hair pulled back into a low ponytail.  The minute Cas pulls his sister in for a long hug, Dean can see the tension drain from his posture.  Anna gives Dean a big hug as well, as Cas tries to wrangle the backpack from her.  

“Good trip?”  Dean asks.

“Other than having to be up at an ungodly hour, it was fine,”  Anna answers.  

They walk out of the station and pile into the Impala as Cas runs through a litany of questions about Anna’s classes and her roommates and her experiences so far in the new semester. After the first half dozen questions, Anna sighs so loudly that Dean can pretty much hear her rolling her eyes from the back seat.  “Anything else, _mom_?”

Dean laughs outright and Cas has the decency to blush and snap his mouth closed.  

“Speaking of which,” Dean says, “you should probably call them and let them know you got here in one piece.”

Anna pulls out her phone and hits a couple of buttons.  “Hi mom,” she says, in an unmistakably bored tone.  “Yes, I got here just fine.”  Pause.  “Yes, they picked me up at the station.”  Pause.  “Yes, both of them.  We’re on our way back to their house now.”  Pause.  “Do you want to talk to Castiel? He’s right here.”  Before waiting for an answer, Anna thrusts the phone forward across the back of  the seat to her brother.  Dean snorts at the stricken look on Cas’s face as he puts the phone to his ear.

“Hello, mother.”  He tips his head as he listens to his mother speak, then twists around to look at Anna in the back.  “She looks pretty good.  No, not too thin.  At least I don’t think so.  She’s dressed rather like a hobo, so it’s hard to tell.”  He winks at Anna.  “I’m joking, mother.  She’s wearing a sweatshirt and jeans.”  Pause.  “Yes, I know.  We’re just about home so I should go.  Dean’s made a nice lunch for us.”  Pause.  “I will.  Okay, goodbye.”

Dean pretends to take in his surroundings.  “We’re still five minutes from home.  No need to cut the conversation short.”

“I’m ignoring you,” Cas says which completely negates any ignoring he may or may not be doing.  “And my mother says hello.”

“You forgot to pass me the phone.”  

“Next time I’ll be sure to.”

When they get back to the duplex, Cas gives Anna the grand tour, carrying her backpack up to the guest room for her while Dean turns on the oven to toast the rolls and slices the tri-tip he cooked last night for sandwiches.  Anna oohs and ahhhs appropriately over their house and Dean's ring, stopping to peer at the framed picture on the mantel of Dean and Cas taken at the Gandy Dancer where they’d gone to celebrate their engagement. 

When the food is ready, Dean is gratified to see Anna build a sandwich piled high with steak and cheese.  She sighs happily at eating something other than cafeteria food or pizza.  Full and content, she leans back in her seat.  “So what kind of wedding plans do you have put together?”

“We don’t even have a date set,” Cas reminds her.

“And whatever we end up doing, it’s going to be simple,” Dean says.

Anna looks horrified.  “Not even a Pinterest board with flower ideas or cakes?  Coordinating tuxes?”

They shake their heads.

“You guys are the worst homosexuals _ever._ ”

“Technically, Dean is bisexual,” Cas clarifies.

Dean thinks back to last night and the way he found to distract Cas from vacuuming the carpeted stairs for the second time in twelve hours.  He’s pretty sure he was an A+ bisexual then.  He brings himself back to the present as Anna tries a different tactic.

“How about your vows at least?” She smirks at them. “Gonna promise to obey?”

“Only Dean is,” Cas says lightly, his hand casually but unmistakably drifting to his neckline as he looks at Dean.  

Dean promptly pushes back his chair and picks up the dirty dishes.  When he’s behind Anna, he turns and catches Cas’s eye.  “You’re cut off,” he mouths before taking his red face into the kitchen.  

Cas is there a few minutes later, pressing up against him from behind.  “Somehow I doubt that,” he says against Dean’s ear, sliding his hands up under the front of Dean’s shirt.  Dean shifts his weight back for for a second or two, feeling the warmth of Cas’s body draped over his.  Then he steps forward and wedges himself out of the small space left between Cas and the edge of the sink.

“Nice try.  You may be the…” Dean stops and glances out the kitchen doorway to make sure Anna is out of earshot before hissing, “ _Dom_ when we’re scening, but that doesn’t mean you get to lord it over me the rest of time.”

Cas’s eyes widen in shock and Dean can tell there’s an apology on the tip of his tongue, but he stops short when Dean throws back his head and laughs.

“Oh my God.  Your face,”  Dean leans forward to kiss him.  “But you’re still cut off,” he adds softly.

It turns out that Anna doesn’t want to do much other than relax in their house.  (“I live in a college town, “ she protests.  “I don’t need to see another one.”)  With assignments of her own to complete, she’s happy to eat their food, use their wifi, and flop on their couch.   Dean takes advantage of the fact that she’s absorbed in her laptop, with her headphones plugged in, to tease Cas a little bit.  Each time he walks by Cas, where he’s studying at the table, Dean makes sure to trail his fingers along the back of his neck or trace the sensitive skin behind his ears.  He stifles a snort when he walks by again and sees Cas prepare himself by gripping the table edge with both hands.  To keep Cas on his toes, he continues on his way without stopping that time.  

That night Cas tries to cozy up with Dean in bed but Dean kisses him once on the mouth, then shuts him down.  

“Cut off,” he says mildly.  Before Cas can open his mouth to argue, Dean continues making his case.  “Besides, you were the one who cleaned everything out of the nightstand and hid it away in the closet.”

“Fine,” huffs Cas before rolling onto his back.

Dean reaches for his hand and smiles a little into his pillow before falling asleep.

The next day, Anna sleeps late like the typical teenager she is.  Cas and Dean have breakfast but when Dean goes up to shower, he refuses to let Cas join him. “What if Anna wakes up and comes looking for us?”  

Cas doesn’t have an argument for that, so he waits in the bedroom, reading, until Dean is done.  But that doesn’t stop Dean from parading around naked after his shower, taking three times longer than usual to choose his clothes for the day.  He makes unnecessary trips to and from the closet since that puts him directly in Cas’s line of vision.  When Dean sees Cas staring at him, he winks and walks back to the dresser with an extra wiggle.  Cas is on his feet striding towards him when he’s stopped by the creak of a footstep in the hall.  Dean gathers his clothes and hightails it back to the bathroom while Cas tends to Anna.

Dean continues his passive-aggressive assault throughout the day with a series of stealth touches interspersed with a string of suggestive texts. By the time they all head out for dinner, he’s getting such a kick out of watching Cas faintly blanch each time his phone buzzes that he can’t resist taking a picture of his junk in the restaurant bathroom.  He waits until he’s back at the table to send it, hiding his grin behind a napkin when Cas glares at him as he takes his vibrating phone from his pocket.  Cas holds the phone below the surface of the table and Dean knows the exact moment the picture loads in because Cas’s knee jolts the underside of the table so hard that Anna’s soda sloshes over the edge of the cup.  As Anna mops up the spill, Dean just smiles and helps himself to another chicken wing, which he eats as sloppily as possible.

That night Cas pounces on Dean as soon as he turns off the light on the bedside table, pinning him on his back, his mouth attached to Dean’s neck.  Dean gasps and has to stop himself from arching upwards as he chokes out two words. “Cut off.”

“This is no longer amusing,” Cas says, focusing his attention on Dean’s earlobe.  Dean takes in a ragged breath and rolls them over, Cas sighing happily until he realizes that Dean has pulled away and is looming above him, on his hands and knees.  

“Anna’s room is right there,” Dean says, flicking his eyes to the shared wall above their headboard.

“Dean,” Cas says, and fuck, he’s looking up at him all big blue eyes and dark lashes.  

 Dean feels his resolve dwindling, but he steels himself and pulls out the one argument Cas can’t deny.  ”We’ll traumatize your sister.”

 “Dean, please,” Cas is almost begging now as he reaches up to run his hands up and down Dean’s sides.  “I can be quiet.”

 Dean stares at him for another moment, before shaking his head.  “I don’t think you can,” he decides and rolls back onto his own side of the bed. 

 They lie side by side for a long while before Cas says ominously, “You’ll pay for this.”

 Dean’s stomach lurches and his cock twitches in simultaneous anticipation.

 The next morning dawns cold and grey.  Anna’s train leaves before noon, so Dean gets up to make a big breakfast before she goes.  Not wanting to distract Cas from his last few hours with his sister, Dean behaves himself, but from the slight twitch under Castiel’s left eye, he knows there’s no redeeming himself at this point.  

 When it’s time to head to the station, Cas packs up a couple of leftover lemon poppyseed muffins for Anna to take on the train and, as it begins to flurry, Dean runs upstairs for the scarf Cas bought him for his birthday.  It’s soft, dark green cashmere, pin striped with charcoal and fringed at the ends.  

“My brother has you accessorizing?”  Anna looks at him approvingly.  

“It’s nice and warm,” Dean says, tucking the ends into his jacket.  “And Cas says the green brings out my eyes.”

Anna pretends to puke.

At the station, Cas tries to insist on parking and coming in to wait with her but Anna rolls her eyes and refuses his offer.  She thanks them and hugs them both goodbye before walking into the station, giving a small wave over her shoulder when Cas calls after her to text them when she gets home.  

As Dean drives back to the duplex, he pretends not to notice the way Cas is glaring at him from the passenger seat.  Dean makes a few attempts at conversation, but Cas just shakes his head each time.  Dean pulls into their driveway and turns off the ignition.  Turning in his seat to face Cas, he tugs on the scarf looped around his throat just enough to reveal the collar underneath.  Cas’s eyes widen and Dean darts out of the car, sprinting for the front door.  He’s to the foot of the steps when he hears the front door slam shut and he’s half way up the stairs, just making the ninety degree turn at the landing, when Cas tackles him.  

Dean thought he’d have to play at being repentant, but Cas is so scary-hot right now that his mouth just hangs open as Cas straddles him and pulls the scarf free with exacting precision.

“You were warned, Dean,” he growls and before Dean can react, he’s got both of Dean’s hands above his head.  Dean can’t do anything but grind upwards taking advantage of Cas’s momentary distraction while he uses the scarf to to tie Dean to the newel post at the top of the flight of stairs.  With his hands tied, Cas can only push the jacket off of Dean’s shoulders and shove up his shirt.  He wedges a thigh between Dean’s legs and Dean nearly yelps at the sudden contact.  

“You had your fun,” Cas continues in the stern tone that makes a shiver run down Dean’s spine.  “Now it’s my turn.”

Cas yanks the button on Dean’s jeans open and works a hand inside.  Dean tosses his head from side to side as Cas grinds his palm against Dean’s already hard cock.  A moment later the hand is gone and Dean feels his shoes unceremoniously removed and tossed down the stairs before his zipper is pulled down.  Using both hands, Cas tugs Dean’s jeans and underwear off in one swift motion.  

They’re startled by a knock at the door.  They both freeze when the knock sounds again, more loudly this time.  Cas stands and holds up a single, warning finger at Dean in a clear _do not move_ command before straightening his clothes and walking calmly down the stairs.

Dean takes stock of himself.  Wrists tied to a post above his head.  Shirt pushed up to his armpits.  Naked (except for socks)  from the waist down. 

When Cas opens the door, Chuck’s soft voice is on the other side.

“Hey Cas. Um, sorry to bother you.  I thought you’d want to know that the lights are on in the Impala.”

“Ah,” says Cas.

Cas is probably keeping the door mostly closed and Dean is probably far enough up the stairs to be out of sight.  Probably.  Dean resists the urge to pull his legs up because Cas told him not to move.

“I figured you’d want to know.  I know how Dean is about that car.”

“Dean is—“ Cas begins.

 _Don’t you say it_ , Dean thinks as loudly as he can.  _Don’t you fucking say it._

 _“—_ otherwise occupied,” he finishes.  “I’ll take care of it.”  

He retrieves the keys from where Dean threw them onto the couch and steps outside.  Dean releases a deep breath as he hears their voices become more distant.  It should only take a moment for Cas to switch off the lights and lock the car, but Dean finds himself waiting.  And waiting.  He can hear a muffled hum of talking from outside, and it becomes clear that Chuck has engaged Cas into conversation.  Dean smiles to himself as he pictures Cas trying to quickly but politely extricate himself from Chuck’s earnest discussion.  When the front door finally opens, he lifts his head a little to see down the staircase, anticipating the way Cas is sure to come flying back in.

Instead, he hears measured footsteps.  Moving away.  Resting his head back on on the floor at the top of the stairs, he listens as Cas makes his way into the kitchen.  A small bang that he recognizes as a cabinet closing is followed by the unmistakable sound of the refrigerator being opened.  Dean listens as Cas shakes what must be the carton of orange juice and pours himself a glass.   Dean breathes in slowly through his nose.  

But Cas hasn’t said he can’t talk.

“Cas.”

Nothing.

“Cas, goddammit.”

Nothing.

“Cas, get up here and finish what you started.”  Still no response and Dean can picture him in the kitchen, one hip leaning against the counter while he leisurely drinks his juice.  He decides on a different approach.

“Cas, I’m sorry.”  He’s rewarded by the clink of the glass being set in the sink and the sound of footsteps.  He can’t see the kitchen door from where he is, but he knows Cas must be standing in the doorway.

“I don’t think you are,” Cas says cooly, making a wave of heat flush over Dean’s entire body, despite the drafty staircase.

“I am, Cas.  I swear.  Come up here and I’ll show you how sorry I am.”  

Dean holds his breath as Cas makes his way towards the stairs, hearing the familiar creak of the second step.  The sound of Cas’s cell phone ringing gets to Dean just before Cas comes into view and Cas stops on the landing to pull the phone out of the front pocket of his jeans.  After checking the screen, he smiles sweetly at Dean. Too sweetly, Dean thinks and his shiver of fear is justified when Cas taps on the screen and answers it.

“Hello, mother,” Cas says as he continues climbing the stairs. 

_Jesus Fucking Christ._

Dean glares daggers at him and struggles against the scarf.  Cas raises one eyebrow and Dean stills.

“Yes, we took her to the station and everything was on time.”  Cas settles himself on the step next to Deans hip and with one long finger lightly traces his cock from root to tip and back again.

“We had a very nice visit, yes.  She looks well and is enjoying her classes.”  While he listens to his mother talk, Cas swirls his finger over the slit, collecting a drop of pre-come that he promptly puts in his mouth.  

“Mmmhmm” he says in agreement with whatever his mother is saying,  

 Dean squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on breathing, until he feels Cas flick him on the hip and he knows to open his eyes.

“Tell me, mother, what do you have planned for when we’re all home for Easter?” Cas locks eyes with Dean, a dangerous glint in his blue eyes.   

With his right hand,  Cas holds the phone to his ear, but tilts the speaker up and away from his mouth, giving himself room to thoroughly wet two fingers on his left hand.  Still listening to his mother talk, Cas nods sharply at Dean who spreads his legs.  Cas inserts one finger, quickly followed by a second and Dean has to turn his head and bite down on a mouthful of his jacket collar to keep quiet.  Cas pumps his fingers in and out, opening him up even as he continues making vague, agreeable sounds to hold up his end of the phone conversation.  When Dean dares to look at him, he’s gratified to see that Cas’s face is flushed, his lips wet and parted as he watches his fingers disappear inside Dean’s body,  When his fingers graze Dean’s prostate, Dean shudders and a small groan escapes around the fabric in his mouth.

“Yes, I’ll tell Dean.  Or you could…”  Cas takes the phone from his ear and tips it towards Dean, whose mouth goes dry. He realizes he's never known the true meaning of fear until this particular moment.  His heart pounds as time stands still and  the phone seems to loom impossibly large over him.

“Never mind, I’ll tell him,”  Cas says, pulling the phone back and now Dean will never know if he would’ve whimpered “Pittsburgh” into the phone or not.  Dean writhes as Cas crooks his fingers again, as if passing along the message. “All right, mother, I have to go. We’ll see you soon.”   

 A moment later, he’s pulled his hand away and is standing and continuing up the steps while he finishes his goodbyes.  Dean lies there, gasping, too stunned to say a word but this time Cas doesn’t keep him waiting, and he’s quickly back, the cell phone replaced by the bottle of lube.  His eyes rake over Dean, from his wrists bound in cashmere above his head, to the line of half-naked body, splayed nearly diagonally across the stairs.  

He huffs out a breath.  “Looks like you aren’t going to be much help.”

 “Cas, please.”  Dean breathes, pulling in his knees to brace his heels on a step and lift his ass into the air, trying to look as enticing as he can.  Cas moves between his legs, balancing carefully as he pulls down his own jeans and underwear just enough to lube himself up.  Kneeling on the step, he slides one hand under the small of Dean’s back to cushion it from the edge of the riser as he pushes into him.  Dean’s going to end up with brush burns or bruises or both, but at the moment his only concern is wrapping his legs around Cas’s waist and pulling him in as tightly as he can.  Cas takes him fast and hard and whether it’s the change in angle or the brazen feeling of being so exposed or the end to all the torturous waiting, Dean doesn’t know, but before long he comes without even a hand on him, his cock trapped deliciously between the damp skin of his stomach and the soft fabric of Cas’s t-shirt.  He keeps his legs clamped around Cas, his bound hands grasping onto the wooden post for whatever traction he can manage as Cas ruts into him, his face pressed into the crook of Dean’s neck.  Cas comes with a long groan, calling Dean’s name so loudly that he’s sure Chuck can hear them through the wall.

 _I knew he couldn’t be quiet_ , Dean thinks with no small amount of satisfaction.

Cas reaches up to untie Dean.  “Hey, guess what?  Chuck finally asked Hannah out.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean drops heavily onto the couch.Glancing over, Cas lifts his laptop so Dean can swing his feet up and into his lap in one smooth motion. After a few quick clicks to save his work, Cas closes the lid and leans forward to set the computer on the coffee table.Using both hands, he rubs Dean’s feet, digging his thumbs into the bottom of the instep the way Dean likes.Dean makes a happy, garbled noise and closes his eyes.  

 

“So, tomorrow?” Cas asks.

 

“Should be good to go,” Dean confirms.“I need to stop at the store for a purple onion, but the potato salad is made and tomorrow I just need to throw the burgers together.Chuck and Hannah are bringing dessert.”

 

“And the artichoke dip?” Cas asks hopefully.

 

Dean lifts his head from the arm of the couch to look at Cas.“Don’t give me those big eyes.Of course I made it.I know it’s your favorite.”

 

Cas smiles and returns to the foot massage with renewed vigor, sliding one hand awkwardly up Dean’s pant leg to rub his calf.Dean closes his eyes again, letting the tiredness of the day seep through his body.If Cas keeps that up, he could probably happily fall asleep right here.He’s seriously considering doing just that when Cas clears his throat.

 

“So, I had an idea,” Cas says, rather slyly and go figure, now Dean’s a little more awake.  

 

“Mmmhmm?” he says, keeping his tone casual.  

 

Cas gives his foot one last squeeze.“About tomorrow. I thought we could have some….fun.”

 

Dean should not be getting the beginnings of a hard-on from that single sentence.  

 

Tomorrow evening Hannah and Chuck are coming over for a barbecue.Spending time with them is always nice, but it’ll be that much better if Dean has something special to look forward to afterwards.

 

But because he’s playing it cool, he resists the urge to sit up, grab Cas and demand to be told every last detail.Instead, he cracks open one eye and lazily drawls, “Do tell.”

 

“What if we took things out of the bedroom?” Cas ventures.

 

Dean opens both eyes.“You have my attention.”Hell, he still can’t walk up the stairs without casting a fond eye toward the newel post at the top of the flight.

 

“Maybe try something a little more…public?” 

 

Dean searches his face for signs that he’s joking.“Meaning?”

 

“Like, something while Hannah and Chuck are here.”

 

Dean outright laughs.“Oh my God, I thought you were serious for a minute.”He nudges Cas’s hands with his feet in hopes of getting the massage re-started.

 

“Dean,” Cas says and Dean can’t help but notice that the foot massage is not happening.“I am being serious.”

 

Dean feels his blood run cold and he pushes himself up to a seated position.“What like _with_ Hannah and Chuck?”Forget playing it cool.This was never anything they’ve even come close to discussing and for God’s sake Cas doesn’t even like girls but maybe Cas likes Chuck and—

 

“What?No! I didn’t mean that!”Cas looks nearly panicked, searching Dean’s face with wide eyes.“I mean, is that something _you_ wanted to—“

 

Dean takes him by the front of the shirt and kisses him, hard and possessive.“No.”

 

Cas slumps a little in relief.“Okay.Jesus.You gave me a scare.”

 

“Me?” Dean punches him lightly on the shoulder.“You’re the one who said—and I quote—‘something while Hannah and Chuck are here’!”

 

Cas blinks for a moment.“All right, I can see how that might have been misconstrued.”He lets out a deep breath and puts a gentle hand to Dean’s face. “Can we try this again?”

 

Dean turns his head to kiss Cas’s palm.“Go for it.”

 

“What I had in mind was doing something that only you and I knew about.But it would be fun because we’d be around other people.”

 

Dean raises both eyebrows.“I’m going to need a few more details.Like, I am not going to play host to our neighbors while I’m wearing a vibrator or something.”

 

“No, not that.” Cas assures him, before stopping and giving him a appraising look. “Although I would encourage you to keep an open mind seeing as you’ve done a lot of things you never thought you would.And they’ve all worked out pretty well for you.”

 

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but ends up smiling dopily at Cas instead.“Fair enough.Now get to the point. Wait--” he says before Cas can continue.“How am I going to wear the collar with people here?It’s not exactly scarf weather.”

 

“Ah,” Cas says and gets up off the couch.He digs around in his computer bag and comes back with a small manila envelope which he tosses into Dean’s lap.

 

Dean looks at him questioningly, but Cas just indicates that he should open it.Inside is beautifully made leather band.The pebbled texture and rich color are an exact match to the collar.The inside is even lined with the same green flannel.Instead of a buckle, it closes with a single snap.Cas takes it from Dean and fastens it around his right wrist.  

 

“It fits,” Cas says, clearly pleased with himself.“I had to guess at the measurement, but I figured your wrists were a little bit bigger than mine.”  

 

Dean stops admiring it long enough to pepper Cas with questions.“When did you do this?How long have you had it?”His eyes widen.“Oh my God, what do you have planned?”

 

Cas sits up straighter, adopting the position Dean has mentally dubbed “Professor Milton”.Dean makes himself comfortable and waits for the explanation that always follows.

 

“This bracelet works just like the collar.Same rules apply.Anybody seeing it would merely consider it to be an accessory, a fashion statement, if you will.”

 

Dean nods in agreement and stifles a snort.It always amazes him that Cas can talk like this without striding around the room, his arms behind his back.

 

“So tomorrow, I would like it if you would wear that.”

 

“And?” Dean prompts.

 

“And a pair of your panties.”

 

Dean’s not going to lie.This sounds intriguing.

 

“I get to pick which ones,” Cas continues.“And what you wear over them.” Cas leans forward and drags a thumb over Dean’s lips.“And you can’t eat a bite of anything new until you get permission from me first.”

 

Dean knows his face is red. He swallows hard. “I can do that.”

 

*

An hour before their guests are set to arrive, Cas leads Dean upstairs.  

 

“Go shower,” Cas says, “I’ll get your things set out.”

 

Dean comes out of the bathroom, hair wet and a towel wrapped around his waist, to find Cas standing next to the bed.Curious, Dean approaches to see what he’s chosen.He’s spent an inordinate amount of time wondering which direction this would go.He only has a few pairs of panties to choose from but he’s mentally managed to justify then reject then re-justify each one as Cas’s choice.The pink pair is a favorite, of course, the black one is a little skimpy, but it would be subtle.Knowing Cas, though, he isn’t surprised at what he finds.

 

The red ones.  

 

Okay.  

 

The good thing about the red ones is that they are ridiculously comfortable.The satin is smooth and the cut is fairly generous.The bad thing about the red ones is that they’re rather high waisted, trimmed with a wide band of matching red lace.Up till now it’s never been an issue because Dean’s never worn anything with them other than the collar (and occasionally leather restraints).  

 

Now, he focuses on what else Cas has on the bed.A pair of jeans and a t-shirt, that’s easy enough.But they’re an older pair, worn and frayed in places, and the most tightly-fitting of all his jeans. The shirt is one he wears fairly regularly, but generally as an under layer since it’s always been a little small.No belt.  

 

He’s still standing there in the towel when Cas takes his hand and snaps on the bracelet.  

 

“If I see you’ve taken this off, I’ll know the game is done.”Cas says.

 

Dean smiles at him and takes the towel off with a flourish.“I’ve got this,” he says and oh jesus christ he has not got this.But he pulls on the panties as gracefully as he can with Cas sitting and staring at him.He runs his thumbs along the inside of the waistband to make sure the lace is lying smoothly before reaching for the jeans.Before he can pick them up, Cas hooks a finger in the elastic and tugs Dean to stand in front of him.  

 

“You are so beautiful,” Cas murmurs, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing a kiss to his sternum.Slowly he runs his hands over Dean’s satin-covered ass, his movements pulling the panties more tightly in front.Cas slides his hands around until his thumbs are tucked just under the elastic in the front of the legs and leans down to mouth at Dean through the fabric.Dean stands as still as he can, but he rocks forward a little as Cas darts his tongue along the inside of the waistband.It doesn’t take much of that before Dean is completely hard, the flushed red tip of his cock trying to work it’s way out.Only then does Cas pull back.

 

“You can finish getting dressed now,” he says and leaves the room.

 

Dean puts both hands down on the bed and drops his head, catching his breath and willing his erection to go down. Wet stains from Cas’s mouth and some pre-come have turned the fabric a darker red. But every deep breath he takes causes the fabric to pull ever so slightly and it’s not helping one bit.  

 

He steps into the jeans, adjusting himself a couple of times so that he can fasten them, then pulls the t-shirt over his head.Standing in front of the mirror, he looks fine.The shirt is short, but long enough to cover the waistband of the jeans.He swivels back and forth, then turns his back to mirror and watches himself over his shoulder as he leans over.It doesn’t take much for the tell-tale line of red lace to become visible.  

 

He clasps his right hand to his chest, pressing the leather of the bracelet to the skin above his neckline, He misses the weight of the collar around his neck, the way it seems to anchor him to whatever task Cas has given him.He breathes for a few moments more, then puts on his shoes and socks and walks downstairs.  

 

*

He can’t quite keep the little smile off his face as he busies himself with last minute details.The feel of satin against his skin is exhilarating and more than once he catches Cas staring at him. 

In fact, he’s whistling as he puts chips intoa bowl and slides the pan of artichoke dip into the oven to heat.Now he just needs to double-check that there’s enough beer and soda in the fridge and—

 

“Cas?”Dean asks from where he stands in front of the open refrigerator.

 

Cas looks up from where he’s stacking plates on the table.

 

“Am I allowed to drink?”Dean doesn’t mean it in the do-I-have-permission way.They’ve always scened stone-cold sober because there’s no place in any of this for impairment.  

 

Cas works his jaw for a moment and Dean realizes he hasn’t taken this into consideration.“We can each have one beer,” Cas decides just as the doorbell rings.

 

Dean closes the fridge and tugs his t shirt down nervously as he follows Cas to the front door.Hannah and Chuck are there, smiling and holding hands.Hannah holds up a grocery bag.“We brought ice cream for dessert.I couldn’t decide, so I got two kinds!”  

 

A twinge of doubt flickers in Dean’s brain the minute they open the door.Hannah, in a nod to the unseasonably warm early spring weather, is wearing a a sun dress, in soft watercolor shades.She’s topped it with a lightweight navy cardigan and her hair is up in a loose bun.Chuck has on khaki shorts and a freshly-ironed short-sleeved plaid shirt.Even Cas has on a pair of his nicest jeans and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up.And there’s Dean in his too-tight old jeans and worn t-shirt.  

 

Cas ushers them inside and Dean, trying to shake off his self-consciousness, takes the bag from Hannah.Peeking inside, he finds mint chocolate chip and cookies and cream.Two of his favorites. “Good choices, Hannah.Now come on in and I’ll get you guys something to drink.”

 

In the kitchen, he’s never been so happy to have a side by side refrigerator/freezer.Without having to bend, he opens the left-hand door and places the ice cream safely inside, then he opens the other side for drinks.“Beer or soda?” he asks Hannah who has followed him into the kitchen.

 

“Beer would be great,” she says.  

 

“Chuck?” he calls across to where Chuck and Cas are talking in the living room.

 

“Beer me!” 

 

Dean takes four beers from the fridge, handing two off to Hannah, who is leaning against the kitchen wall chatting enthusiastically about the new brunch place that opened down on Main Street.Dean’s trying to focus on what she’s saying, but he’s distracted by the realization that the beers are going to require an opener.And the opener is in the second drawer down.  

 

“Hey, I need to go start the grill,” he says, when she’s finished her alarmingly detailed description of the almond crusted french toast.“The opener is in that second drawer there.Would you mind—?”

 

He scurries out of the kitchen and to the back door.He can feel Cas’s eyes on him the whole way.Outside, he tugs at his shirt again and fiddles with the controls until the propane lights.He shifts his weight from foot to foot.There are rough spots where the panties have dried and he tries to reposition his junk as subtly as he can before rejoining the party.

 

Back inside, Hannah is standing in the living room with the other two and she hands him his now-open beer.Chuck raises his bottle in a toast.“To good friends and double dates.”They all clink bottles and Dean raises his to his mouth as Hannah beams and leans in to kiss Chuck on the cheek.

 

Before Dean can take a drink, he hears Cas clear his throat.It’s a small sound, but he freezes, the glass of the bottle cold against his lips.He tries to lower the bottle inconspicuously, but his heart is pounding and he nearly jerks it away.He glances at Cas who shakes his head in a minuscule but unmistakable manner.Luckily Hannah and Chuck are too busy making heart eyes at each other to notice.  

 

Dean fiddles with his full bottle and tries to hold up his part of the conversation.Occasionally he glances at Cas who seems completely engrossed in whatever Chuck is saying.Antsy, and looking for something to do, Dean walks over to the coffee table where Cas has put the bowl of chips.Instead of just reaching for the bowl, he circles around the table until he’s facing their guests who are still standing outside the kitchen door.Even so, he doesan awkward little squat to pick up the bowl.  

 

As their host, he knows he should offer to Chuck and Hannah first, but he ignores that instinct and walks up to Cas.“Chips?”  

 

Frowning, Cas as takes the bowl and holds it out to their guests. “Would you like some?” 

 

And now Dean doesn’t know if he’s done something wrong or not.Was Cas making a point of illustrating how rude he’s being?His mouth is dry and he switches the sweating beer from one hand to the other, wiping his damp palm on his jeans.Hannah offers him the bowl of chips and Dean find himself at a total loss, his mind whirring.  

 

“Dean could you get us some napkins, please?” Cas asks, taking the bowl from Hannah.Dean smiles (a little tightly) and heads for the kitchen.  

 

He could really use a nice long drink of the beer that he’s carrying around like a fucking purse at this point.He sets it down a little harder than necessary on the counter as he opens the cabinet for the napkins.He takes a quick peek over his shoulder before reaching up to grab a stack from the upper shelf.When he comes back out with the napkins, Cas looks pointedly at his beer and nods.Gratefully, Dean takes a long drink.  

 

“Oooh, Dean, is that new?”Hannah asks, indicating his bracelet.

 

Dean manages to swallow his mouthful of beer without choking.“Uh, yeah.Cas got it for me.”

 

Hannah takes his arm, turning it to see the whole thing, running her fingers over the leather.Dean wants to yank his arm back.He doesn’t want anybody else touching it.A sick feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.This was a bad idea.These things are supposed to be private and special and just between the two of them. 

 

“Cas, where did you get this? _Some_ body,” she tilts her head towards Chuck, “has a birthday coming up soon.”

 

Dean should probably feel gleeful that Cas now has the deer in the headlights look, but instead he feels worse.If Cas doesn’t know what to do then they are both fucked.

 

“I bought it online,” Cas manages.  

 

“Will you send me the link?” 

 

“Of course.”

 

 _Good luck with that_ , Dean thinks, imagining the look on Hannah’s face as she peruses the shop’s offering of collars and restraints.He knows he only gets one and should make it last, but Dean finishes his beer in a couple of long swallows.  

 

They’re saved from any more discussion when the oven timer beeps.  

 

“That’s the artichoke dip!”Dean says with extra enthusiasm.

 

“And you look like you could use more drinks,” Cas says, leading everyone towards the kitchen. 

 

Which was a really terrible fucking idea, Dean realizes as he hits the button to shut off the timer.He cracks open the over door to take a look.The dip is definitely done, the cheese bubbling and starting to brown.  

 

“It sure smells good,” Chuck says.

 

“Dean made my favorite,” Cas announces with a note of pride that Dean would appreciate a little more if he weren’t scrambling mentally at how to bend down and get the pan out of the oven without flashing his panties to the entire assembled party.

 

“Just needs another minute,” he says, doing his best to give Cas a meaningful look that goes unnoticed.Shit.Now what?He could ask Cas to deal with the oven.But is that a failure on his part?Or is that him being clever and working around his limitations?He gets stuck in a mental loop of questions, not sure which decision is the correct one.He stalls as long as he can before reaching for the oven mitts that hang on a hook next to the stove. The group is crammed into their small kitchen right now, obliviously chatting while Dean is trapped in place, cornered up against the oven.This whole thing was a mistake, he thinks as a bead of sweat runs down between his shoulder blades. He should just take the damn bracelet off right now and throw it in Cas’s stupid face.He still feels unsettled from Hannah touching it.

 

Finally he turns to Cas and holds out the oven mitts. “If you want to take it out, I’ll start slicing the bread.”  

 

He sees it all comes together for Cas, and a moment of relief moves through him. He should’ve known to put it in Cas’s hands.The moment quickly disappears when Cas responds.

 

“You did all the work, Dean, I wouldn’t steal this moment from you.”Cas says, a playful look in his eyes.

 

Dean tries for a smile (he would throw that bracelet right in his smug fucking face) and turns towards the oven, opening the door to let some of the heat escape, like maybe that would give his face a reason for being so red.Just as he steels himself to bend over, he feels Cas behind him, his chin hooked over his shoulder.“Don’t drop it,” he teases, putting his hands on Dean’s hips and using his body to shield Dean from view.In a quick movement, Dean places the steaming pan on the stovetop to cool, knocking the oven door shut with his knee.  

 

With that crisis averted, Cas offers up a new round of drinks and moves the group out to the living room.Dean stays in the kitchen, slicing the baguette into rounds. He should’ve known that Cas would take care of him, but instead of feeling focused and relaxed by that, he feels angry at himself for not trusting Cas.  

 

They’ve been doing this for long enough that Dean should be able to do whatever Cas asks of him without all this doubt and fear.If he can’t put himself completely into his Dom’s hands, then what’s the point?It’s all built on trust and if Dean is hiding in the kitchen ungrateful and bitter, then he’s failed at his role.He wonders what he would do if Cas came in and tried to take the bracelet off of him.He’s so deep in his own head right now, he doesn’t even know what he wants.  

 

Sighing, he gathers the bread into a bowl.He makes two trips to the living room and, thankfully, Cas reaches up from his seat on the couch to take the dip, then the bowl from him to put on the coffee table.  

 

With nothing left to do, Dean needs to sit and join the group.He chews on the inside of his cheek as he decides where to sit.Chuck has settled in the leather chair, with Hannah perched on the arm. Cas is on the couch and although there’s plenty of empty space there, Dean sits carefully on the floor, his back against the couch, where he can turn toward the armchair and lean a little against Cas’s legs.The hand Cas immediately puts in his hair tells him that is a good decision. 

 

 Chuck leans forward to scoop up some artichoke dip with a piece of bread and Dean watches as the cheese stretches and thins before snapping.  

 

“This is delicious,” Chuck says, after taking a generous bite.

 

“All that hard work!Aren’t you going to have some?”Hannah asks, and Dean’s starting to think she doesn’t miss a thing with those piercing blue eyes.

 

“I like to make sure my guests have everything they need first,” Dean says, and it sounds awkward even to his own ears.

 

Cas leans over next to him to load some bread with dip.The smell wafts tantalizingly close as he brings it to his mouth.“So good, Dean,” Cas says around his bite and Dean feels a little rush of pride.“Here,” Cas says and Dean turns his head for Cas to feed him.Dean doesn’t dare look at Cas but he manages to let his lips linger an extra second on Cas’s fingers.  

 

It’s the last good moment, really.Dean can’t get himself into the groove.Standing outside at the grill, he starts to sweat and he’s forced to try and make coherent conversation even as he feels the panties stick to his skin.  

 

He does everything he needs to do: flipping the burgers, toasting the buns, but the whole time, he’s sure everyone can see his secret.Like the red panties are somehow broadcasting themselves with blinking lights and blaring horns.It started out thrilling and intimate, knowing Cas was in on it.But now it’s just nerve-wracking and he feels ridiculous for letting such a small bit of fabric influence and override every choice he makes today. 

 

Back inside (the only thing worse than warm, damp satin is cooling, damp satin), they sit around the table. Dean’s not really hungry, but he loads up his plate.He has three distinct foods: the burger, potato salad, and a handful of the potato chips he hadn’t managed to have earlier.The rest of the table is digging in, so Dean picks up his burger and flicks his eyes toward Cas, who immediately tips his head just enough that Dean knows he has permission to eat.He takes a grateful bite of the burger and it does seem like he’s tasting each distinct part more fully: the juicy beef, the salty cheese, the crisp lettuce and sharp bite of the purple onion. Even the distinction between the toasted surface of the bun and the soft inside seems more pronounced.He chews happily and mentally apologizes to Cas for all those things he thought about his gorgeous, perfect face in the kitchen.  

 

After a few bites of burger, he picks up a chip but Cas isn’t looking at him and he turns it over in his fingers a few times before putting it down and reaching for his burger again.When he picks up his fork for some potato salad, Cas turns and smiles his permission right away.But when he picks up a chip again, Cas steadfastly ignores him.  

 

Maybe Cas thinks he needs to lay off the chips.Maybe Cas is drunk with power.Probably a little of both, he thinks, and picks at the rest of his plate.He can live without those chips.He just needs to tell his body that because his mouth is watering just at the sight of them, thin and golden on his plate.He pushes them to the far side of his plate and takes another small scoop of potato salad instead.Maybe he accidentally on purpose crushes one with his fork out of spite, earning a sharp look from Cas, but he’s careful not to let even a single crumb mix in with the potato salad.  

 

After dinner, Cas scoops ice cream into bowls, giving Dean a serving of each kind.Armed with bowls and spoons they sit back at the table.Cas makes him wait a few minutes before he gives Dean the okay to start eating, time Dean spends idly moving his spoon around his bowl so as not to make himself look conspicuous.Once, when Chuck directs a question his way, he even puts the empty spoon into his mouth, clanging it against his teeth.When Cas gives him the okay to start, Dean ponders his bowl.Ice cream is ice cream, right?Or does each flavor count as a different food? He manages a few bites of mint chocolate chip, but pushes the rest around his bowl uneaten.

 

By the time Hannah and Cas leave, Dean is exhausted from being hypervigilant about where he is and what he’s doing.His shoulders ache and he keeps finding his hands clenched in fists even when he’s just sitting and talking.And while talking should be the easiest part of the evening, he can’t get his brain fully latched in to any conversation and he’s quite sure that Chuck and Hannah think he’s a babbling idiot.Which, to be perfectly honest, to the trio of brilliant graduate students (Hannah is studying nuclear physics for God’s sake), he probably is on any given day.  

 

They’ll probably go back to Chuck’s place and spend the rest of the evening wondering how Cas ever ended up with Dean in the first place.And more importantly, why he stays with Dean.Maybe they think Dean is Cas’s trophy wife and now Dean’s focus is tested even further because on top of everything else he’s angry at them for hypothetically thinking Cas would be so shallow.  

 

Of course, after tonight, and the way Dean has bungled this so badly, Cas will go back to keeping this part of him hidden away in the bedroom.Which is fine, really.It’s where this shameful part of him belongs. But this had been Cas’s idea, clearly something he wanted, and Dean had hoped to make it good for him.  

 

He has one job as a sub: follow through on his Dom’s requests.It’s that simple.Instead, he’s managed to flail to the point that their friends have probably decided Cas stays with Dean out of pity.

 

“Dean,”Cas says, and Dean realizes he’s still standing and staring at the door he’s closed behind Chuck and Hannah.He turns toward Cas, who is looking at him impassively.“Please go upstairs and wait for me.”

 

Dean walks slowly up the stairs, legs and heart heavy.

 

Up in their room, he paces around a little.Then sits rigidly on the edge of the bed.Then paces around some more.From downstairs he can hear the sounds of Cas cleaning up: the refrigerator opening and closing as he puts away the leftovers, water running, the clink of dishes being put in the dishwasher.The guilt over Cas doing all the work settles over him with additional weight as he spins the bracelet around and around his wrist.  

 

He has no idea what to expect when Cas comes back upstairs.Any “punishment” they’ve engaged in generally stems from Dean provoking Cas.Today, for the first time,he’s disappointed Cas and the feeling sits sourly in his stomach.He’s still pacing when he hears Cas’s footsteps on the stairs.He freezes in place, near the far wall of the bedroom, as Cas opens the door then closes it behind him.Dean stares at his shoes and waits for his next instruction.

 

“On the bed please,” Cas says. “On your back.”

 

Dean complies and Cas walks to the foot of the bed to remove Dean’s socks and shoes.Then he walks to the bedside table and opens the top drawer. 

 

“Would you like your collar?”

 

Dean nods.

 

“Dean.”Cas says again, with that look on his face that says Dean should know better.

 

“Yes, please,” Dean manages, mentally kicking himself.

 

Dean lifts his head a little from the pillow as Cas slides the collar under him, fastening it at the front, then sliding it around so that the buckle in in the back.With the familiar weight of it pressing at his throat, Dean feels incrementally better.He’s not sure what to do with his hands, so he holds them at his sides, trying not to fidget and pluck at the material of his jeans.He keeps his eyes on the ceiling.  

 

Cas sits down heavily on the edge of the bed, his back to Dean.“I asked a lot of you today.”

 

Dean wants to tell Cas how sorry he is.He’d thought he was up to the task, but clearly he wasn’t. But Cas hasn’t asked a question so he stays silent.

 

“Possibly too much,” Cas continues and Dean feels his heart sink.He let Cas down, no two ways about it.“For that I apologize.”

 

Dean turns his head to look at Cas, but Cas is still looking toward the door.Finally he shifts around on the bed to meet Dean’s eyes.  

 

“It’s my job to set the limits and make sure you feel safe and capable.I didn’t manage that today.”Cas looks so sad that Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Cas gently lays a finger on his lips.“But Dean,” he says with the barest hint of a smile.“You tried so hard today.You tried so hard to give me what I asked for.”He smooths a hand through Dean’s hair.“You were incredible.”

 

Dean blinks a few times still trying to understand when Cas says, “And that effort is to be rewarded.Sit up, please.”

 

Dean does as he’s told, lifting his arms as Cas pulls off his t-shirt.He follows Cas’s gesture to stand so that Cas can unbutton and unzip his jeans, sliding them down over his hips until they pool on the floor.Cas holds out one hand so Dean can steady himself as he steps out of them.In this strange turn of events, he’s momentarily forgotten about the panties and the burst of color surprises him.  

 

Cas stokes along his hip and Dean stifles a sigh. He lost his hard-on hours agoand he’s not completely convinced he’ll be able to get it back anytime soon. 

 

Cas directs him to lie back down on the bed.Despite the warm day, summer is still months away and the sun has long set.Cas switches off the bedside lamp and Dean relaxes a little in the darkness. 

 

“Do you know,” Cas begins, settling himself on the bed alongside Dean and propping himself up on one elbow, “how many things I like about you?”

 

Dean darts his eyes up at Cas who is staring down at him, then looks straight ahead again, pressing his lips together.  

 

“Don’t give me that look,” Cas says, running a finger along his lower lip, before leaning in to kiss his temple.“Did you know you have a cluster of freckles right here?”He traces the spot he just kissed, along Dean’s hairline.“I love all of your freckles, but for some reason these right here are my favorite.” 

 

Dean feels a slight flush begin and he turns his face away, embarrassed.Cas uses the hand he was propping his head up with to reach into Dean’s hair, tugging a handful none-too-gently.“Your job is to be still and hear me.”

 

The sting from having his hair pulled washes over him like a balm and he starts to feel more focused.He swivels his head back and Cas rubs a thumb over his forehead in satisfaction.  

 

Cas kisses down his face, along his jaw, and down his neck, pressing his lips against the collar before stopping to nip a little at the tendon that stretches to his shoulder.He pushes up to sit cross-legged next to Dean so that he can use both hands to massage his shoulders, then his arms, thumbing at the muscles of his biceps.Dean takes a deep breath as he feels the tension start to recede, relishing the feel of Cas’s hands on him in the silence of the room.  

 

Cas takes one of Dean’s hands in both of his, bringing it to his mouth to kiss the palm.“I love to watch you work with your hands,” he says, before sucking one of Dean’s fingers into his mouth.“Everything you do is so capable and precise, never a wasted motion.”He slowly licks between Dean’s fingers, teasing his tongue where they meet his hand, knowing the way it makes Dean squirm.“Whether you’re working on the car or cooking or touching me.I could watch you forever.”He gives Dean’s other hand the same attention and, by the time he’s done, Dean’s definitely feeling some downstairs action.  

 

Letting go of Dean’s hand, Cas leans forward and kisses slowly along his sternum before detouring and biting at one of Dean’s nipples.It’s quick and hard and Dean gasps at the sudden change.He feels Cas smile against his skin as he moves to the other side, sucking at the other nipple until they are both hard and pebbled.“I love the sounds you make.Do you have any idea how amazing it is to know I have that effect on you? How lucky I am to be able to touch you?”

 

Dean brings a hand to his face in embarrassment.He know Cas loves him, they say it all the time, but this is somehow more intimate and much harder for him to hear.The physical commands and sensations he can handle, both pleasure and pain, but this is requiring something entirely new of him. _Be still and hear me_ , Cas said.Not _listen_. 

 

Cas tugs Dean’s hand away.“I will restrain you if I have to, but I’d prefer not to,” he says.Dean locks eyes with him for just a moment, but it’s enough to steel his resolve.He lets his arm go back to his side so that Cas will continue.  

 

“Good,” Cas murmurs as he runs a hand from Dean’s face to his neck, to his chest and across to graze both nipples before moving lower.Lightly he runs his fingertips over Dean’s stomach, then leans forward to kiss it. Dean fights the urge to suck it in.“This, right here, is one of my favorite parts of you,” he says, kissing a circle around his belly button.“You are so strong, but this little part of you is always soft and yielding.”Cas shifts so he can rest his head on Dean’s stomach and Dean feels the drag of his stubble on the sensitive skin there.“I feel so safe when I lie here like this.”Dean smiles for the first time because Cas does love to lie with his head there, but Dean always figured it just made a good pillow.  

 

Still resting his head, Cas trails his fingers downward, tracing the the inside of Dean’s thighs along the edge of the panties.“And _this,_ ” he breathes, outlining the triangle of red fabric before suddenly sitting up again, turning to face Dean.“And I don’t just mean this,” he says ghosting the palm of his hand over the now-prominent bulge. “Although I am _very_ fond of this,” he clarifies, circling a thumb over the head through the satin. “But the fact that you trust me enough to let me see you like this.”He works his hand under the waistband andstrokes Dean slowly.“It’s intoxicating. It’s more than I deserve.” 

 

Dean lifts his hips, moving with Cas’s hand, feeling the fabric pull and twist as he does. When Cas carefully lifts the elastic up and over to free the head of Dean’s cock, the rasp of lace on his shaft makes him shiver with pleasure.Cas kneels beside him and takes him in his mouth, sucking firmly at the tip before running his tongue in circles on the smooth head.Dean’s cock is still pressed against his body from the tight fit of the panties, and Cas mouths his way down, dragging his tongue from warm skin to bunched fabric and back up again.  

 

Moaning, Dean starts to reach for Cas’s hair, but stops short and splays his hands on his own stomach instead.He rolls his hips a little because as much as he likes these panties, he’s ready for them to come off, ready for Cas to have full access to him, but Cas has other plans and pulls away, leaving the wet head of Dean’s cock to cool in the air while the rest of it strains agains the satin and elastic.

 

Dean whimpers in frustration, but Cas has moved on, kissing his way down Dean’s leg and kneading both hands into his thighs.Dean’s legs are splayed open andCas kisses the inside of each knee.“I know you’re self-conscious about these,” Cas says, running his hands from his hips down to his ankles and slowly back up again.“But they are so distinctly _you_.I wouldn’t want you any other way.”He crawls between Dean’s legs.“And when you wrap them around me, it feels like a sacred space.”  

 

Now he pulls the panties down a little further, before sliding his hands to grip Dean’s hips, holding him firmly down as he gets all of him into his mouth.Dean spreads his knees wider, bringing his feet to rest on Cas’s calves as he kneels.Cas takes his time, licking and sucking until Dean is moaning, then he pulls off and nuzzles at Dean’s thighs, darting his tongue under the elastic or dragging it in flattened swipes. He pulls one of Dean’s hands down to touch himself, guiding it to cup his own balls, tightening under the red fabric. He kisses Dean’s other palm and places it on his chest and Dean knows roll and pinch his own nipples as Cas teases the head of his cock.Only when Dean is tossing his head back and pleading does he engulf it with the wet heat of his mouth, moving with Dean’s now-frantic thrusts until he arches and comes with a series of gasping cries.  

 

Cas swallows and kisses Dean’s hip before stretching out alongside him and kissing him firmly on the mouth.He lays a hand on Dean’s heart, feels his still-racing pulse. “You are the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.”Dean places his hand, the one with the honeycomb ring, on top of Cas’s and they lie there together with their fingers intertwined.  

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little rough in this one, so consider yourselves warned!

The music intensifies into a wave of sound as Cas tugs open the men’s room door and steps out from under the fluorescent lights and into the dimly lit bar.  The place is crowded and noisy and he has to wind his way back through throngs of people standing in groups big and small, filling every available space.  He touches an elbow in apology as he makes his way, turning sideways to squeeze past a couple slow-dancing nowhere near the dance floor, then dodges the beer glass of an animated young woman gesticulating wildly.  All the while, the beat of a song he doesn’t recognize thrums loudly, forcing people to shout just to be heard.  With all the noise, it’s no surprise that Dean doesn’t hear him coming.  Anyways, he’s got his back to Cas. 

 

Cas stops and leans against a wooden column to admire his fiancé standing near the bar, appreciatively trailing his eyes from his charmingly bowed legs to his perfect ass all the way up to his hair spiked with just enough product and precision to look unintentional.  The crowd has merged and coalesced, reclaiming the spot where Cas stood just five minutes ago, and Cas smiles to himself as a muscular blonde sporting a deliberately too-tight shirt and an abundance of hair gel works to casually position himself next to Dean.  The man inclines his head towards Dean, gesturing to the half-empty glass held easily in one hand.  The intent is clear even though Cas can’t hear a word from where he stands.  Dean casts a glance over his shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms, but the trail Cas has had to blaze through the crowd left him approaching from a different angle.  He should keep walking, he knows, cross the rest of the space between them and announce himself with a hand on the small of Dean’s back.  But instead he waits.  And watches. 

 

Dean looks back at the blonde, who has turned to face him, eyebrows raised in silent question.  Cas watches as Dean shrugs, then nods.  The blonde gives him a dazzling smile and flags down the bartender.  

 

Cas positions himself so that he’s a little more hidden behind the column.  When a man steps into his sightline, he none-too-gently moves him aside.  People flock to the bar, a constant churning of the crowd, but Cas keeps his eyes fixed on Dean.  A surging group of raucous women maneuvers into the bartender’s orbit, pushing Dean closer to the blonde, who reaches out a hand to steady him.  As Cas watches, the hand lingers on Dean’s bicep and instead of pulling away, Dean smiles and shuffles slightly closer.  A new, louder song begins to play and the blonde tips his head forward to speak directly into Dean’s ear.  Dean leans into him, listening attentively, pulling away only to throw his head back and laugh.  Cas feels his stomach clench as the drinks arrive and Dean sets down the half-empty one Cas bought him earlier.  He accepts the fresh beer from the blonde who, Cas notes, takes Dean’s hand in both of his as he passes him the drink.  Dean runs his forefinger along the rim of the glass, and looks shyly up at him through lowered lashes, a nearly irresistible look that Cas has been on the receiving end of more times than he can count over the past few years.  

 

Cas stands alone, a coldness flooding through his chest, and then he’s on the move.  He pushes roughly through the crowd, jaw clenched as he watches Dean take a long drink of beer, then clean the foam from his upper lip with a slow drag of his tongue. He stands, fists balled, right in Dean’s personal space and watches as Dean’s posture stiffens in response.  

 

 “There a problem?” blonde guys asks.

 

Cas doesn’t even spare him a glance, levelling Dean with one eyebrow raised, voice bitter.  “Yes, Dean. Is there a problem?”

 

Dean looks pointedly between the two of them and Cas feels his pulse pounding in his ears, but he wills himself to stay still.  Finally Dean turns callous eyes back on Cas.  “No problem.”

 

“Let’s go,” Cas says and a moment passes where he isn’t sure what Dean’s going to do.  

 

“Thanks for the drink,” he says, leaning around Cas with one last smile at the blonde. 

 

Resisting the nearly overpowering urge to take him by the arm, Cas follows, letting Dean lead the way through the crowd and to the door.  Outside, the strains of music fade away as they begin to walk the few blocks to the duplex. 

 

 _I won’t make a scene in the street_ , Cas thinks, _I won’t_.  He repeats it mentally again and again to give himself something to latch onto lest emotion overwhelm him.  The images of Dean unabashedly flirting with the man flash through his mind, nearly eclipsing everything else.  They walk in angry silence, not quite side by side.  They’re half a block from home when Dean sighs and scrubs a hand across his face, the movement catching Cas’s eye.  He comes to a full stop and grabs Dean’s wrist, jerking it into view under a streetlight.

 

“Where’s your fucking ring?” he demands. “That wasn’t part of it.”

 

Dean just shrugs and yanks his arm back. 

 

“Unbelievable,” Cas mutters, shaking his head in disgust. 

  

At their front door, Cas stops, but Dean has already fished his keys out to unlock it, letting it slam open against the inside wall.  Inside, they take off their coats and shoes, the silence surrounding these mundane acts threatening to smother Cas.  He closes the door carefully and quietly behind them, stopping to take a deep breath.  By the time he turns around, Dean is already part-way up the stairs. 

 

“Dean,” he calls after him, but Dean keeps trudging forward, his shoulders squared. “Dean!”

 

Cas climbs the stairs two at time, catching him just outside their bedroom door.  He takes Dean by the arm. “What the hell was that all about?”

 

“It was nothing.” Dean turns away from him again and walks into the bedroom.

 

“The hell it was,” Cas insists. “I was gone for five minutes and you were all over that guy.”

 

“It was no big deal.  Just a little harmless fun.  Quit overreacting.”

 

Cas comes at him from behind, twisting one arm up behind his back and pushing him against the wall.  Dean starts to squirm in his grip, but Cas leans into him, holding him still.  “You owe me an explanation,” he says through gritted teeth. 

 

“I don’t owe you anything,” Dean hisses, pressing his forehead to the wall and turning his face away.  

 

They’re both breathing heavily as Dean makes a move with his free hand to extricate himself, but Cas grabs his wrist and pins it against the wall.  “What would you have done if I hadn’t come back when I did?” Cas demands. “How far would you have let things go?”

 

Dean’s only response is an angry huff.

 

“C’mon, Dean.  It was 'no big deal'.  You said so yourself.” Cas’s voice is insistent, his mouth only inches from Dean’s ear. “Tell me what you had planned. Were you going to let him take you into one of the stalls?  Out behind the building?”  He shifts closer, letting the hardness in his jeans press into Dean, whose attempts to pull away just leave him trapped even more tightly between Cas and the wall.  Cas begins to grind slowly against him. “Do you think he’d know what to do? How to make you feel good?” He scrapes his teeth against Dean’s earlobe.  Dean tries to evade him, but it puts pressure on the arm twisted behind him and he lets out a small noise of distress.  “He can’t take care of you the way I can,” Cas says, pulling downward on the wrist he has pinned.  He smiles into Dean’s neck when he finds what he’s looking for and covers Dean’s hand with his own, rubbing it roughly between his legs. “Would you rather have his hands on you?” Cas growls. 

 

Dean is sweating now, his own hot breath reflecting back at him. His body has gone rigid as he tries to minimize the ache in his shoulder. If he moves backwards, he pushes against Cas’s erection.  If he moves forward, he presses into the hands Cas has wedged against him.  He finally goes motionless but he still manages to get out a few biting words. “You don’t own me.”

 

Stunned, Cas releases him and Dean whirls around to face him.  They stare at each other in charged silence until Dean moves to walk away.  Cas grabs him by the front of the shirt. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he says in icy tones.

 

With a quick, sharp jerk Cas pulls him downward with just enough forward force to knock him off balance.  Dean lands on his hands and knees and before he can get his bearings, Cas unfastens his belt and slides it out of the belt loops with a snapping flourish.  Dean pushes himself up to sit back on his heels and tries to scramble backwards, but his motion cuts short when he collides with the wall.  

 

“You’re mine,” Cas says, bending down.  The belt is old and well-worn and the leather is soft enough to easily bind Dean’s crossed wrists together in front of him.  Dean hangs his head, trapped and overpowered. 

 

“Look at me, Dean,” Cas commands.  When Dean keeps his eyes downcast, Cas takes his chin and forces his head up.  “You belong to me. All of you. Always.” With his other hand, he pops the button on his jeans and pulls down the zipper, then works his jeans and underwear off one hip, then the other.  He strokes his newly freed cock slowly and deliberately, dropping his eyes to Dean’s mouth.  

 

Dean recoils, banging his head against the wall and Cas steps forward, feet on either side of Dean’s knees.  “Open your mouth, Dean.”

 

Dean does as he's told.

 

Cas guides himself into Dean’s waiting mouth, inhaling sharply as he’s surrounded by warmth and wetness.  He gives Dean just a moment to adjust before gripping him by the hair with one hand while the other cups around the back of his head, holding him steady and cushioning it from banging against the wall.  Dean does his best to keep up, while Cas relentlessly uses his mouth, drawing back at irregular intervals to let Dean manage a full breath.  Dean has his eyes squeezed shut and his lips glisten with the saliva that runs down to his chin. 

 

A particularly deep thrust leaves Dean coughing and sputtering and Cas steps back, glaring down as Dean lifts his bound hands to wipe his mouth on his shirt sleeve. 

 

“Get on the bed,” Cas commands, but Dean lingers a moment on the floor catching his breath so Cas yanks up his own pants before taking hold of Dean.  Grasping Dean by the upper arm and the back of his shirt,  he half-drags him to his feet and marches him the few feet to the side of the bed.  “Down,” he orders, punctuating his word with a push forward. 

 

Dean stumbles onto the bed, bracing his fall with his bound hands.  As Cas comes up behind him, Dean gets his knees under him and lifts his head, knocking it into Cas’s nose hard enough to make his eyes water.  Cas stops for just an instant, putting a hand to his face to make sure he’s not bleeding, but it’s long enough for Dean to flip over onto his back.  Both of them panting from exertion now, Cas leans over him, trying to pin him down and restrain him.  Dean continues to struggle and the metal edge of the belt buckle catches Cas on the side of the face.  Cas feels the skin over his cheekbone split and Dean’s eyes go wide with fear. He stops fighting and all it takes is a small gesture from Cas to have him back on his stomach.  

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he almost chants, burying his face in the mattress as Cas reaches under him to undo his pants.  Cas ignores him, and pulls his hips up and his clothes down until he’s bare-assed and presenting.  Cas kneels on the bed behind him and frees his own cock again, digging the nails of the other hand into Dean’s side.

 

“Cas, I’m not—“ Dean pleads but Cas spreads his flesh and fumbles there for a moment before spitting into his hand to add to the residue of saliva and pre-come already coating his erection.  He pushes into Dean, who grunts with the force of it, and fucks into him fast and hard, one hand pressing on the back of the his neck to hold him down.  Cas ruts into him almost blindly, with no other thought than to _take_ and _possess_.  Dean groans breathlessly with each thrust, his head bowed in the vee of his bound wrists.  

 

Cas drapes his full weight onto Dean’s back as he reaches forward to unwrap the belt. “You can get yourself off,” he hisses in Dean’s ear. “Since you don’t need me.”  Dean pushes up onto one shaking forearm to support himself and reaches the other hand down to circle his own cock.  Cas digs fingerprint bruises into Dean’s hips and leaves scratches on his shoulders as he holds him tighter, pulls him closer. From far away, Cas hears Dean moan with his release, and then his own orgasm peaks, and he arches his back, claiming Dean outside and in.

 

Cas pulls out and Dean collapses onto his stomach, gasping for breath.  Cas stays kneeling for a long moment, his palm flat on the small of Dean’s back, before stretching out alongside him.  

 

“Fuck,” Dean says, his voice muffled by the mattress.

 

“Yeah,” Cas agrees, with a breathless laugh.

 

“I am gonna be sore tomorrow,” Dean says contentedly, letting his arms hang loosely over the side of the bed. 

 

“Where?” Cas asks, frowning and sitting up.

 

“All over.” He rolls on his side to look at Cas admiringly. “Jesus, you’re strong.”

 

“I didn’t hurt you?” Cas lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, his eyes full of concern.

 

“Nothing I couldn’t take,” Dean’s smile disappears as he remembers. “Oh shit! How’s your face?” 

 

Cas waves him off. “It’s fine.”

 

“That was an accident. Sorry.”

 

“No apology necessary.” 

 

“And the plug worked great,” Dean says, chattering happily.  “I was totally ready to go. Did you really spit on your hand? I should _not_ find that so hot.”

 

Cas ducks his head shyly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.  Do you want juice or water?”

 

“Water’s fine,” Dean stretches out again as he waits for Cas to come back to the bed with a cloth and a drink and some motrin. 

 

Clean and sated they climb under the covers, Cas hugging Dean to his chest. 

 

“Need anything else?” Cas asks.

 

“All good,” Dean confirms sleepily.

 

 Just as Dean’s drifting off, Cas releases him, twisting around to open the drawer in his bedside table.  “Dean,” he says softly.

 

“Mmm?” 

 

“Here’s your ring,” Cas takes it from where he’d safely stored it before they left the house and slides it back onto Dean’s left hand. 

 

***

Dean wakes a few hours later, reaching across the cold bed to find his warm fiancé.  Cas isn’t there.  Dean opens his eyes, but there’s no tell-tale line of light coming from under the bathroom door, so he sits up, getting his bearings and checking the clock.  It’s going on 3 AM.  He pulls on boxers and a t-shirt and opens the bedroom door.  A lamp is on downstairs and he walks down to find Cas sitting at the table, an open beer in front of him. 

 

“Hey,” Dean says from the stairs, “You okay?  Have you slept at all?”  As Dean approaches Cas gets up quickly and crosses to the other side of the living room, standing with his back to Dean.  Dean stands stock-still near the table before venturing slowly, “Cas? What’s going on?”

 

For a long moment Cas doesn’t answer.  Then, still staring out the back door, he says, “Is there something wrong between us that we need to do this?”

 

Dean blinks a few times, his mind still fuzzy. “Um, define ‘this’.”

 

“You know what I’m talking about.” 

 

Dean twists the leather bracelet still on his right wrist.  “We don’t _need_ to do this.  We _choose_ to.”

 

“You seemed pretty happy with that guy tonight.”

 

The whole scene had been Cas’s idea in the first place.  One that Dean had readily agreed to, but Cas’s brainchild.  

 

“Cas, why don’t you come over here and we can talk about—“

 

Cas whirls around, “You didn’t even ask for your ring back!”

 

Dean stares at him, “Cas, you can’t think—“

 

Cas cuts him off again. “I think a lot of things right now, Dean. I can’t stop thinking them, that’s the problem.”  He runs a weary hand through his hair.

 

Dean walks tentatively around to sit on the couch. “Will you come sit with me? Please?”

 

Cas moves towards him with reluctant steps.  Instead of sitting, he drops down at Dean’s feet, face hidden in his hands, head resting on Dean’s lap.  Immediately Dean puts a hand in Cas’s hair, the other rubbing between his shoulders.  When Cas starts talking, his voice is so quiet that Dean almost has to hold his breath to make out what he’s saying.

 

“I don’t own you, I know that. But I see the way people look at you—men, women—you could have your pick of anyone.  You don’t need to be with somebody who does _that_ to you.” He makes a rough gesture in the direction of the stairs.  

 

“Cas, will you look at me?” Cas shakes his head, still safely hidden against Dean’s legs. “Then you have to listen at least,” Dean begins, scritching lightly at the back of Cas’s neck the way he likes. “First of all, I’m not going anywhere. I love you and I don’t want to be with anybody else. Second, you didn’t to anything _to_ me. We did that _together_. Tonight was something new and if it didn’t work for you, then it didn’t work for _us_. Period.”

 

“I got scared. And then I got mad. And then I got scared again by how mad I got,”  Cas says miserably. 

 

“You’ve got to tell me these things,”  Dean says.  “That’s the only way it works.” 

 

Cas doesn’t say anything, but Dean can feel him relaxing. After a few minutes spent in silence, he uncovers his face, turning to look at Dean. “I could stand at that bar all night and nobody would even approach me, but you were there five minutes and that guy was hitting on you,” he sighs.

 

Dean traces a finger lightly alongside the red mark on Cas’s cheek. “He was _so_ not my type. Guy looked like he’d never read a book in his entire life.”

 

Cas gives him a small smile even as he’s rolling his eyes.

 

Dean responds in overly-sincere tones. “I know it’s hard on you having a boyfriend this hot.”

 

“Fiancé,”  Cas corrects.

 

“Fiancé,” Dean agrees. “And I should’ve asked for my ring back, but I had you and that's all I was thinking about."

 

“I should’ve just asked you to put it back on instead of making it into some kind of fucked up test.”  Cas takes Dean’s hand and squeezes it tightly.

 

“You ready to come back to bed?” Dean asks.

 

“Not quite yet,” Cas says.

 

“Wanna watch something down here?”

 

Cas nods and Dean starts to stand. “Okay, you put something on for us. I’ll make you some tea.”

 

“Dean, wait.” Cas grabs his wrist and Dean helps pull him to his feet. “I love you,” he murmurs, pressing their foreheads together before kissing him.

 

Dean smiles. “I love you, too.”

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

Cas can see something is off the minute Dean gets home from work. He drops his bag with a heavy thud by the front door and barely grunts a greeting to Cas, instead of crossing the room to where he sits at the table for his usual kiss hello.

 

“Rough day?” Cas calls after him as he disappears up the stairs, presumably to take a shower. With no answer forthcoming, Cas turns back to his computer screen with the hopes that Dean will wash the day’s stress off of him and uncover a better mood. After the tease of warm, spring-like weather, Michigan has resumed its regularly scheduled programming of dreary, cold, and wet leaving everyone a little worn down.

 

Before Cas can find his place in his notes to continue writing, Dean is clomping back down the stairs. This time he approaches Cas, who lifts his head, eyes still on his notebook, for the overdue kiss. Instead, Dean waits until Cas looks at him.

 

He’s holding the collar in his hands.

 

Cas blinks at him. It’s almost dinner time and he’s in the middle of paper that needs to be emailed to his professor before midnight. “What’s going on?”

 

‘Can we…?” Dean gives the collar a little shake. He’s not quite making eye contact.

 

“This really isn’t a good time,” Cas says slowly. “But if you need to talk—“

 

Dean shakes his head. “I just need…” he trails off again. He’s agitated, jaw working, eyes flitting to Cas’s face and away again. The tension is practically coming off him in waves.

 

“You know we both have to agree to do this, right? That’s been the deal since day one.” He moves to set a gentle hand on Dean’s hip, but Dean steps back, out of reach.

 

 “I know that.” Dean mumbles, eyes cast down.

 

Cas will always _always_ stop what he’s doing if Dean needs to talk. _Always_. But that’s not what he’s asking to do. Hell, even if Dean just wanted to have regular quickie to blow off steam, Cas isn’t sure he could give up the time right now. But to scene? That takes planning and the proper mindset for both of them and it isn’t fair of Dean to spring it on him like this.

 

Cas is about to suggest Dean go for a run to burn off some of this pent up energy, but one look at him miserably scrubbing a hand over his face stops him. Whatever’s going on with Dean, this isn’t the time for him to be alone with his thoughts. “Dean.”

 

But Dean is shaking his head and walking away. “Sorry.”

 

“ _Dean_ ,” he says firmly.

 

Shoulders slumped, Dean stops before turning back around.

 

Cas looks at the table cluttered with his books and notebooks and computer, then back at his fiancé. He’s still trying to figure out how to respond when the realization that Dean is asking for a type of comfort and security that only Cas can provide causes something to click into place. “All right. But we do this my way.”

 

Dean nods and lets out a long, relieved breath. He kneels down so that Cas can buckle the collar on him.

 

Cas wants to stroke a hand through his hair or hug Dean to him, anything to help him lay down whatever burden he’s carrying, but he knows that Dean will only grit his teeth and bear it at this point. So he puts two fingers under Dean’s chin to get his attention. “Go upstairs and change your clothes. Put on your Michigan sweat pants, your AC/DC t-shirt, and the green flannel.”

 

If Dean’s surprised at not being told to undress, he doesn’t show it. He stands and swiftly heads to the stairs. Cas waits until he’s out of sight before getting up to cross to the front door and dig through Dean’s bag. As he expected, he finds Dean’s lunch mostly untouched. Cas is back in his seat tapping away at his computer by the time Dean returns, now comfortably dressed.

 

Cas stops his work long enough to look him over. “Good.”

 

Dean stands with his hands in tight fists waiting for his next command.

 

“Go to the kitchen and get a plate. Count out a dozen almonds and eight crackers. Cut six chunks of cheddar cheese and five carrot sticks.”

 

Cas works on his paper to the sounds of cabinet doors opening then loudly closing and things being taken from the refrigerator. A drawer comes close to being slammed shut and the chopping strikes Cas as a little extra-vigorous, but Dean works steadily to prepare Cas’s request. When he’s finished, he brings the plate to the table where Cas sits. Cas double checks that everything is in order. “Perfect. A glass of ice water too, please.”

 

Cas waits for Dean to complete that task as well before nodding toward the couch. A flicker of resignation crosses Dean’s face as he waits for Cas to banish him there, out of the way so he can eat and write his paper without being annoyed by Dean’s neediness. “Bring a pillow from the couch here.” He points to the spot alongside his chair.

 

He gives Dean time to situate himself on his knees, then Cas picks up an almond and holds it out for Dean, who hesitates for a moment before opening his mouth to receive it. He crunches the almond, then accepts a bite of cheese, and a cracker. Cas lets his hand drift to Dean’s shoulder, but his muscles are still tightly knotted. He tries to knead lightly at the back of his neck when he can spare a hand from his typing, but Dean is merely tolerating the touch at this point although he continues to dutifully eat and drink what Cas gives him.

 

“Dean,” Cas says sharply when he can feel Dean losing focus. “Please go upstairs and get the box of paper clips from the desk in my office.”

 

Dean returns with the box and sets it on the table next to the half empty plate before kneeling again. Cas opens the lid of the box. It’s mostly full, a jumble of plastic-coated clips in a rainbow of colors. He dumps the box onto the floor in front of Dean’s cushion.

 

“Sort them. By color.”

 

Cas continues to work as Dean applies himself to the task, untangling chains of clips as he sifts through them to make neat, coordinated piles. Now, when Cas holds out a carrot or a cracker, Dean takes them readily, letting his lips brush over Cas’s fingers. He allows Cas to smooth his hair, unconsciously leaning toward him to prolong the contact.

 

A little while later, Dean sits back on his heels, admiring the finished product. The chaotic pile is gone, each color separate and tidy on the floor. His posture is relaxed, his breathing comes easily and Cas trails his fingers along the collar.  “Ready to talk now?”

 

“Yeah.” Dean presses his forehead against Cas’s thigh as he unbuckles the clasp. Dean reaches to take the collar before it drops and twists the leather in his hands.

 

“What’s going on?” Cas gently nudges Dean away from his leg so that he can sit beside him on the floor.  

 

Dean rests his head on Cas’s shoulder and lets Cas hold him. “Sam said yes to Stanford.”

 

Cas brushes a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s not like we didn’t know this was coming.”

 

“I know,” Dean mutters into his neck. Sam had gotten his law school acceptance letters and even though he’d gotten in at Kansas and University of Chicago (Dean had let himself entertain the thought of his brother being a mere four-hour drive from Ann Arbor), Stanford had always been at the top of his list. “It’s not that I’m surprised. Today just made it real.”

 

“I understand that.”

 

“I mean, I know we don’t see him a ton even in Kansas, but at least I knew I could get there if I had to.” He sighs. “Everything is changing.”

 

“I’m not,” Cas says, rubbing circles on his back. “We’re not.”

 

“What if the time difference makes it so we never talk? What if he and Jess start their own life and I’m not even a part of it? If we hadn’t left Lawrence, maybe he wouldn’t have either.”

 

“Dean.” Cas leans back until Dean looks at him. He takes the collar from where Dean is twisting it in his hands and holds it up between them. “This can’t be the answer when you get upset.”

 

“I know. I…” he looks down at his now empty hands. “I already put in a call to one of the counselors Tessa recommended. I have an appointment next week.”

 

Cas gathers him close again and whispers into his hair. “I’m proud of you.”

 

Dean sighs. “I was doing so well.”

 

“You were. And you still are. This is a new, stressful situation and you’re using the tools you have to deal with it.”

 

“It doesn’t feel that way.” Dean rests his head on Cas’s shoulder.

 

“It’s not a setback,” Cas assures him. “And even if it were, you’re taking all the right steps.”

 

Dean makes a noncommittal sound before sighing again and moving to stand up. “I’m sorry about this. I know you have work to do.”

 

Cas grabs his wrist as he stands. “I would’ve said no if it weren’t okay with me.”

 

Dean gives him a small smile. “That paper clip thing. That was pretty good.”

 

“I was rather pleased with that myself.” Cas carefully steps around the pile of clips on his way back to the table.

 

“Especially when you used your sex command voice to tell me to sort them.” Dean waggles his eyebrows. “That was hot. Keep that up and I might develop an office supply kink.”

 

Cas’s eyes light up and Dean thinks about the perfect stacks of index cards and neat piles of post-it notes and ordered row of highlighters he keeps on his desk.

 

“Oh my God,” Dean says. “If I find an Office Max catalog under the mattress….”

 

Shrugging lightly, Cas brings his laptop out of sleep mode.

 

Dean rests a hand on his shoulder. “Really, though. Thank you.”

 

Cas covers Dean’s hand with his own for a moment before Dean heads to the kitchen to start dinner.


	11. Chapter 11

Saturday night Dean gets in the shower, as Cas has instructed him to. The hot water feels good and Dean lets it run soothingly over his shoulders for awhile before he takes his time washing thoroughly.

 

He feels settled and balanced. It only took three appointments with the new therapist—“refresher sessions” she’d called them—to work through his concerns about Sam’s move and help restore his equilibrium. (He’d come home after the second one and told Cas, “She says the same things you say, but when she says them, I believe them.” He’d said it almost apologetically, like Cas might be mad that he was wasting time and money on this, but Cas had merely smiled and said that was the point of an objective third party.)

 

Tonight will be his first time back in the collar since the afternoon he came home so upset and he lets his mind drift through the myriad of possibilities Cas may have in store for them. The anticipation is one of his favorite parts. He lingers over small moments like the text Cas sent to confirm their “date” or the instructions he gets on what to wear (or not wear), bestowed like gifts while he’s still uncollared.

 

The water flares extra-hot, bringing Dean out of his reverie enough to pull aside the curtain and peek into the bathroom. The old construction of the duplex means any running water or toilet flush will cut into his water supply and sure enough, Cas is standing at the sink. He catches Dean’s eye in the not-quite-steamed-over mirror and smiles, giving him a quick wave with the hand not holding his razor.

 

Dean closes the curtain before Cas can see his grin and takes a few deep breaths. He has a pretty good idea where this is going and it’s enough to make him blast his already-interested body with cold water for a minute before getting out.

 

Cas is waiting for him, collar in hand, when he comes out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. He waits for Dean to relinquish the towel, slinging it over his shoulder as he buckles the collar around Dean’s neck. Then he has Dean turn around so that he can dry any places he might’ve missed, rubbing the terrycloth over the dip of his lower back and behind his knees. When Cas is satisfied, he directs him to the bed.

 

“On your back.”

 

There are supplies already piled on the bed and Dean tries not to look at them, preferring to be surprised, but he can’t miss the lengths of rope laid out. The ropes are fairly new for them, researched and purchased when Cas decided the cuffs were too limiting. Cas had applied himself to learning about them just as he does with anything new, giving that same single-minded focus that he extends to such things as a replacement for their toaster or the best ergonomic snow shovel to practical bondage solutions.

 

Stretching out on his back, Dean waits for Cas’s next move which apparently is to frown at him and ask him to stand up again. Slightly confused, Dean does and watches as Cas smooths wrinkles out of the comforter before redirecting Dean back into position.

 

Cas guides Dean’s knee up until it’s pushed back enough that he can carefully tie his right ankle to his right thigh, wrapping the nylon rope around and around to help hold his leg in place. With a second length of rope he does the same thing to his left leg until Dean is frogtied. Even as he’s being spread and exposed, Dean loves to watch Cas work like this, admiring the complete concentration in his narrowed blue eyes. Cas arranges Dean’s left arm to the outside of his left leg and uses a third rope to anchor his wrist, looping it through the bonds holding his leg. One last length of rope secures his right wrist in the same way to his right leg.

 

After double-checking the knots and assuring himself of Dean’s comfort, Cas holds up one of his neckties. “May I put this on you?”

 

Dean readily says yes and lets Cas put it in place to serve as a gag. When he’s through, he presses something round into Dean’s hand, curling his fingers around it.

 

“Demonstrate your safe word.” Even with his wrists bound to his legs he has enough give to shake the item in his hand. Technically, it’s a cat toy designed like a mini tennis ball and with a bell inside. Small, light, cheap, and it gets the job done. Cas listens for the bell, then nods his approval. “One jingle for slow down, sustained jingling for stop.”

 

Dean’s naked. His legs are tied up and open. His wrists are bound and he’s gagged with a tie. He’s in no position to laugh, but that’s just what he does, a quick series of snorts only slightly tinged with hysteria while Cas so seriously intones the words “sustained jingling”.

 

Dean stops laughing when Cas holds up the blindfold.

 

They’ve done two out of three before. Gagged and bound. Bound and blindfolded. Gagged and blindfolded. This is definitely upping the ante.

 

“Dean, may I put this on you?”

 

It’s a lot to give up and for a moment Dean hesitates. He can totally say (or jingle) no. Cas will be fine with whatever he decides, that’s how this works. But Dean is willing to give it a go and he nods his consent.

 

Cas slides the shade over his eyes, adjusting the elastic around the back of his head. He keeps one hand resting on Dean’s shoulder as he pulls a pillow down to tuck under his head. After another moment, he puts a pillow under Dean’s hips as well.

 

“Comfortable?”

 

Dean tightens his grip on the ball and nods.

 

Cas moves off the bed and Dean is there alone in the dark, tied down and exposed. He works to put down the adrenaline spike as his pulse thuds in his chest, his throat, and his ears. He tries to keep still, but the anticipation has him tipping his head a little trying to catch any indication of where Cas is, of where that first touch will land. Dean waits, completely at his mercy, to see what Cas has for him.

 

Dean had thought being a submissive would largely consist of him catering to his Dom’s needs. But time and time again he found himself in this position—well, not literally _this_ one—where Cas used their imbalance of power to focus on Dean. Not that this whole thing wasn’t about both of their pleasure, but Dean had expected a lot more of being told what to _do_ rather than being commanded to _take_.

 

He’s not complaining, though. He still remembers the time Cas had him strip and kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed before cuffing his hands behind him. Cas had rummaged through the closet, while Dean shivered expectantly, trying to determine what he’d selected.

 

Cas returned to sit on the edge of the bad, calm as could be with his legs stretched out easily in front of him. He waited to speak until Dean stopped looking at his hand for clues and met his eyes.

 

“If my dick isn’t in your mouth in three minutes, you don’t get to come tonight.”

 

He opened his hand to reveal a timer. And not just any timer, a kitchen egg timer made to look like a goddamn rooster. It had to have come from his townhouse in Lawrence and Dean was so busy staring at the brightly colored plastic atrocity, wondering where it had been all this time, that he didn’t immediately react when Cas twisted to base to start it ticking. Maybe those few precious wasted seconds might have made the difference because when it dinged three minutes later, Dean was still mouthing at Cas through damp cotton, having gotten his belt undone and the zipper part-way down but meeting defeat at the button of his jeans. 

 

Dean hadn’t given up, but Cas had tapped his forehead to stop him, then shaken his head sadly at him. He kept Dean on his knees as he finished opening his jeans and slowly, deliberately jacked himself while Dean watched.

 

“Not a drop,” he warned, just before he came on Dean’s face. Dean kept his eyes and his mouth closed, denied even a taste.

 

Cas wiped his face with a damp cloth and uncuffed him, directing him to the bed where Dean foolishly assumed _Game Over_. Instead, he’d had Dean stroke himself to the brink of completion once, twice, three times before kissing him chastely on the lips, switching off the bedside light and turning away from Dean to go to his own sweet, orgasm-induced sleep.

 

Dean had had to employ his breathing techniques that night, willing his body to relax and his hard-on to get the message that they had both failed. The collar felt tight and Dean questioned his every life choice as his dick throbbed and his mind churned. _You asked for this_ his ever-helpful brain supplied. _Literally. You sat on the couch with him and asked him to try this with you._ Dean huffed in frustration and eventually fell asleep, waking up at the first light of day with Cas’s mouth on him.

 

(The only long-lasting effect was that the rooster timer was banished from the bedroom to the kitchen where it sat on the stove and cheerfully mocked Dean who felt a split-second Pavlovian pang of frustration every time it went off.)

 

Now, he hears Cas cross to the other side of the room followed by a gentle creak that he’s pretty sure means Cas is leaning against the dresser, the better to watch Dean. Dean wonders if he already has something in mind or if he’s using this time to consider possibilities but he shuts down that line of thinking because it doesn’t matter. Cas will take care of him, plain and simple.

 

Footsteps approach, but Cas bypasses him to go to the side of the bed and Dean hears the drawer open and close. _Lube, yes, okay._  He waits for that first touch, wondering if it will be a sharp pinch of a nipple or a gentle palm on his hip to ground him.

 

But Cas returns to his spot near the dresser and Dean hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down followed by a soft rustle of fabric. Dean listens but he doesn’t hear Cas taking his jeans all the way off and he smiles a little around the tie. Cas knows he loves it when he keeps his clothes on. There’s something about the thought that Cas can’t be bothered to undress the whole way while Dean is stripped bare that stirs something hot and dirty in Dean’s blood.

 

Dean works on his breathing, waiting and waiting as Cas stays across the room. He’s sure Cas is touching himself and the anticipation builds even as he feels his face redden, flushing at what he must look like, fully restrained with his knees up and his legs open. He hears the click of the lube bottle _okay now we’re getting somewhere_ but it’s followed by the wet, slick sound of skin on skin and even a few soft moans that carry over to the bed.

 

Dean chews on the tie in frustration. If Cas wants to get wet, Dean’s got a perfectly good mouth. Plenty of times Cas has removed the gag midway through, why should this time be any different? He huffs out an indignant breath through his nose and twists the rope around his wrists hoping this show of disapproval will spur Cas to approach and correct him, maybe with a slap to his ass. Any sort of touch would be preferable to being left like this. But there’s nothing. Just the continued sound of Cas moving his hand slowly up and down. So Dean stills and redoubles his efforts to obey while he waits.

 

When it finally happens, it’s almost too fast.

 

Before he can even register the weight of Cas kneeling on the bed, he feels a tongue dragging along the crack of his ass and he bucks his hips up in surprise. Cas rewards him with a quick smack and then the tongue is gone. Dean bites back down on the tie and tries to relax. Soon Cas touches him again, with only the tip of one finger, dragging it down from the underside of his balls, teasing past his rim and along his crack. Cas uses a light touch, just firm enough not to tickle as he narrows Dean’s focus to the single point of his finger. The pad of his finger is warm and dry as it moves up and down and lazily circles his hole. It’s leisurely and Dean longs for more, but he’s happy for this much after all that waiting.

 

Finally, Cas replaces his finger with his tongue, licking up and down as he covers the same ground in that slow, unhurried pace. For greater access, Cas puts both hands on Dean’s ass to spread him open, but even then he’s only using his thumbs and a couple of fingertips, not even laying both palms on him. But Dean can forgive him as he makes wide, sweeping motions with his tongue before flicking it against his sensitive rim.

 

Cas’s tongue is sinful at the best of times (once Dean had to drag him into the restroom of an ice cream shop after watching him lick his way through a mint chocolate chip cone, the cold tingle of his mouth adding to the exhilarating risk of getting caught) and even though Dean can’t see him now, the idea of that tongue swirling and dipping over him so intimately is enough to have his untouched cock painfully hard.

 

Usually when they do this Dean is face down and he’s never before appreciated how being able to hide his face in the pillow gives him a modicum of privacy that he didn’t realize he needed. Now there’s literally nowhere to hide and apparently Cas is planning on taking his sweet time. Dean tries to control the trembling in his legs at the relentless sensation and wonders if it’s possible to be rimmed _to death_.

 

Cas nibbles tiny kisses up and down, alternating with long lazy licks and he’s making little humming sounds like Dean’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted, like there’s no place he’d rather be. Cas dips his tongue in again and his nose brushes against Dean’s body and he realizes again with a jolt how little of Cas he’s getting: just his tongue and a few finger tips holding him open. The rest of Dean aches for attention and he whimpers and twists his wrists, grasping at the rope attached to them until it’s taut and rubbing at his skin. The feeling of the ropes gives him something else to focus on, but Cas stops immediately, hands and tongue gone.

 

“I won’t have you marked up from the ropes,” Cas warns darkly.

 

Dean opens the hand not holding the ball and releases the rope bunched up there. Cas quickly checks the placement of the ropes, never laying a finger on Dean as he does so.

 

Then he resumes his mission, this time with wet, smacking sounds that have Dean’s toes curling. When he thrusts his tongue deeper, his smooth, freshly-shaven face drags along Dean’s sensitive skin. He continues, the spit dripping along Dean’s crack from Cas’s incessant wet teasing until Dean’s grinding the tie in his teeth to choke back pleas that are dangerously close to sobs. The sensation is so sustained and focused on this one part of his body that it’s overwhelming him. It’s too much and it’s not enough and Dean doesn’t know if he wants Cas to give him more or back off completely and he’s losing the ability to know what he wants and just as he thinks maybe he should ring the bell before he breaks completely, Cas shoves two lubed fingers into him. Dean grunts with surprise at the welcome intrusion, and tries to grind down on Cas’s hand as best he can while chanting his gratitude nonsensically through the soaked tie.

 

The fingers are gone too soon but Cas pushes his slicked up cock inside of him in one quick movement, fucking into him hard and fast, his hands braced on the mattress on either side of Dean, still not touching him and it comes to Dean in a lightning-flash of clarity that Cas has been treating him like nothing more than a hole, something anonymous and separate from the rest of him, something he’s now using purely for his own pleasure and it’s so base and dehumanizing that Dean feels a spurt of pre-come leak onto his stomach. He doesn’t know what to blame or who to thank for the fact that he finds this such a turn on, but as Cas pumps into him, groaning and panting, Dean feels his orgasm mounting. He can feel Cas clawing at the covers as he changes his angle to slow his pace and deepen his thrusts, sure signs that he’s close. But before he finishes, he drags two fingers along Dean’s cock from tip to root and Dean arches up into the scant touch and comes in a sudden, sharp rush as Cas moans his own release.

 

Cas pulls off the blindfold and works the tie out of Dean’s mouth, collapsing onto him with every bit of solid warmth that Dean needs right now. He kisses Dean everywhere he can reach--mouth, cheek, neck, shoulder—before angling off him to untie the ropes. Dazed and panting, Dean straightens his legs, suddenly aware of the burning ache in his thighs even as he rotates his freed wrists. He doesn’t realize he’s still clutching the ball until Cas gently uncurls his fingers to remove it.

 

Without getting off the bed, Cas shimmies out of the rest of his clothes and puts a pillow behind him so he can sit up against the headboard. He reaches for Dean, helping to pull him into the vee of his legs, pressing Dean’s back against his chest and wrapping his arms around him so that every part of them is touching. Dean lets his head loll back against Cas’s shoulder and Cas hugs him tightly, taking the time to gently rub his wrists, all the while whispering praise in Dean’s ear. Dean melts against him, sinking into his warmth, not even able to process Cas’s words but feeling the love and pride in his voice.

 

Before Dean can get too comfy, though, Cas eases him forward with a hand on his shoulder that trails down to hold his hand as he climbs out of bed. He crouches down and takes Dean’s face in his other hand. “I’m just going to the bathroom to get a towel, okay? I’ll be right back.”

 

Dean nods dopily at him and lies flat in the warm space where Cas was until Cas comes back and makes him sit up again, holding a cold water bottle for him to drink. When he’s convinced Dean can manage the bottle himself, he wipes him down with the damp towel and begins to knead the muscles of his legs, working from thigh to ankle of one and then the other.

 

Refreshed by the water, Dean rouses enough to tell Cas he’s fine and tries to tug him down next to him, but Cas insists he get up and trek to the bathroom so they can get ready for bed properly. They lie face to face, knees bumping, and Cas takes Dean’s cramped hand into both of his, pressing his thumbs into the meat of his palm and the webbing between his fingers. Dean makes happy noises, flexing his fingers and snuggling closer until Cas is forced to drop his hand and put an arm around his back instead.

 

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” Cas asks with a hint of worry to his voice.

 

“It was a lot,” Dean says, because it was. He struggles to explain. “But you kept it just this side of too much.”

 

“That was my goal.”

 

“I wasn’t worried.” Dean flexes his fingers again. He can still feel the shape of the ball against his skin and how close he came to safewording out. He’s never been that close before and there’s something strangely exhilarating about it because it would’ve been fine if he had. There’s nothing here that he can fail at provided he’s honest with himself and with Cas.

 

“Sometimes I think I could get off on your trust in me alone.” Cas says, almost in awe.

 

Dean tucks himself closer, burying his face in Cas’s neck. The last thing he feels before he drifts off is the kiss Cas presses to the top of his head.

 


	12. Chapter 12

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean says, and it’s just short of a whine. “The limo will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“You’re almost ready. I just need another minute.”

Lying on his back, Dean reaches a nervous hand to his throat. “Is my bowtie still straight?”

“Straightest thing about you,” Cas confirms from where he’s kneeling between Dean’s spread legs.

“Cas,” Dean says with a breathy gasp as Cas finally inserts the plug. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

As always, Cas has a list. “One, you’re nervous as it is. This gives you a distraction, something to focus on. Two, it’s a connection between us so you won’t feel alone when you’re up on stage. I can just give you a little zing, “  he holds up the new remote that Dean’s never seen before, “and you’ll know I’m with you. Three, you’re an absolute slut to have something up your ass at all times.”

Dean tries to muster some outrage at that but ends up giving a resigned, knowing nod instead.   Cas crawls forward enough to kiss him on the mouth. “You’ve worked so hard and I’m so proud of you. Whether or not you get this award, you are already the winner in my book.”

For some reason, these words make Dean flush even more than the knowledge that he’s going out in public with a vibrating plug in his ass.

He’s still contemplating that as Cas climbs off the bed to go wash his hands. “Now put on your goddamned pants. We have a ceremony to attend.”

Dean gets to his feet and pulls on his pants. “I can’t find my cummerbund.” He whirls around and finally finds it on the floor next to the bed alongside Cas’s shoes, an empty orange juice bottle, and the package with the Clapper that Sam had (hilariously) sent for Dean’s birthday. It came with a note that read _I heard this was helpful for old people._  

Fine, so Dean was beginning the downhill slide to thirty. He still didn’t have his bachelor’s degree, although he was getting closer every term. He liked his classes (well, everything but the presentations they had to give. He’d rather write a twenty-page paper than stand up there with everyone looking at him) and he was making slow but steady progress. On top of that, he had a good job and a life with Cas that still amazed him on a near-daily basis. That was more than enough for him. Tonight’s ceremony recognizing him as a mentor to underprivileged kids wasn’t anything he needed.

Dean had been both thrilled and horrified to receive the phone call informing him of his nomination. With Sonny’s help, he’d connected with some high schools around Ann Arbor and found a couple of at-risk kids he could teach some basic mechanic skills to. Somehow, that had morphed into a full-fledged after school program which had then caught the eye of a local trade school. They’d agreed to help subsidize tuition for a couple of his kids, giving them a chance to turn these skills into a career. Dean liked helping kids and their success was more than enough thanks for him. He didn’t need to be paraded in front of people at some sort of fancy gala where he was sure to use the wrong fork and say something inappropriate to the Governor.

He was prepared to thank them for the honor and go about his business. But when the organization had explained that, as a nominee, he and a guest could attend the black-tie dinner for free _and_ they would bring him there and back in a limo, Cas had told him in no uncertain terms that they would be renting tuxes and going.

Then Cas had gotten this brilliant idea to keep Dean distracted and, honestly, it’s working. He has the leather bracelet on with his tux and Cas knows that if he fidgets with it, he’s to slow down. If he unsnaps it, the game is done.

Cas returns to find Dean still wrangling his cummerbund into place while simultaneously trying to step into his shiny black shoes. He takes over cummerbund duty, fastening the buckle and adjusting the fit, before holding out Dean’s jacket. Once he’s all put together, Cas smooths Dean’s lapels.

“Breathe,” he says, taking Dean’s face in his hand. “You’ve got this.” He runs a calming hand down Dean’s back, then pats him firmly on the ass. “Ready?”

Dean nods half-heartedly.

Cas gives himself one last look in the mirror, frowning at his hair. “I just wish these would stay down.”

“Don’t you dare.” Dean stops him before he can flatten his hair. He reaches up to run his fingers through it. “This helps me stay focused.”

Cas rolls his eyes but leaves his hair alone.

When the limo arrives, Cas can’t resist bragging to the driver. He gestures to Dean. “Tonight you’re driving one of the finalists for the Youth Mentor of the Year award! Doesn’t he look sharp in his tux?”

The driver, a middle-aged guy old enough to be Dean’s father, smiles at him in that awkward way that means he isn’t sure if he’s supposed to answer that or not. But he’s paid to be genial so he responds with “Congratulations, sir,” as he opens the door for them.

Cas, who is taking this whole thing a lot more seriously than Dean, follows this up with a (truly embarrassing) round of applause just as Dean is settling on the seat. He must shift funny and jolt the plug because he gets a little extra frisson of sensation.

Dean’s never been in a limo before. This one certainly isn’t state of the art, but it’s pretty nice nonetheless. A curved leather seat that would comfortably hold four people wraps from the back around the left side of the interior. On the right-hand side, there’s a mini bar complete with glassware and ice bucket. An opaque Plexiglas window can be slid back and forth between them and the driver for privacy.

While Dean would have preferred to drive himself in the Impala, he has to admit this is kind of cool. Plus, it’s fun to see people’s heads turn to stare at the tinted windows of the limo as it drives by.

It’s about a forty-five minute drive to get to the suburb of Detroit where the event is being held. Once they’re on the freeway, Cas pours them each a glass of champagne from the bottle chilling in the ice bucket and he clinks their glasses together. “To you.”

Dean shrugs a little, but he’s smiling. “I still don’t think it’s a big deal.”

“Dean. You started out by volunteering with a couple of kids and evolved it into an entire after school program. You have done so much good for these kids who may otherwise have been directionless.”

Dean feels a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck and kisses him just to shut him up.

*

The event is being held at a swanky hotel and, even though he’s dressed for the occasion, Dean feels his palms begin to sweat the minute they exit the limo. He hesitates outside the hotel door until Cas joins him. With one hand reassuringly planted on his lower back, and the other tucked into his own pocket to give him a quick flare of the vibrator, Cas steers him inside.

The room is abuzz with people and Dean has never been so thankful to have Cas at his side. Despite the effort he’s made in breaking away from his parents, it’s clear that he was brought up to handle situations like these, and he navigates the setting with ease and charm. Unlike Dean, he never ends up shoving a puff pastry into his mouth so that he has a free hand to shake. Although he’s got complete control over Dean in some ways, Cas never speaks for Dean, letting him introduce himself and share his accomplishment as they make their way through the crowd.

Cas is deep in discussion with a member of the art institute’s board of directors when a burst of laughter and applause breaks out from a knot of people standing by the hors d’oeuvres table.  Cas must use it as a cover to ping the remote because Dean is forced put his cocktail napkin to his mouth to hide his gasp of surprise.

The whole thing is giving him a weird mix of focus and distraction because he can’t focus too hard on any one thing. As a result, it’s keeping him from getting too far into his own head at feeling so out of his element. Even though Cas looks like he was born to wear that tuxedo, Dean reminds himself that he is the reason they are here, and that’s enough to cut through the nerves and give him a boost of confidence. (Plus, did he mention how good Cas looks in a tux?)

Cas is limiting them to one drink an hour so he waits for the go-ahead before going to get a beer. The bartender pours it into a chilled glass so he doesn’t even have a label to fuss with but that’s ok because the time has come for them to take their seats for dinner. The nominees and their plus ones are all seated at the same table near the stage and Dean finds himself answering some questions about his program and even exchanging contact information with a woman who knows some kids who might be good candidates. The others all seem to have business cards to pass around, but Dean has to borrow a pen to write his email down on the back of one. He starts to slump in his seat a little but Cas catches his eye and deliberately slides his hand into his pocket. Dean jumps a little at the sensation, but it’s enough to put him back on his game.

The plates come out looking identical. A slice of overcooked beef, potatoes that have been piped onto the plate and garnished with parsley, and a medley of vegetables that have been cooked to the same consistency: hard.

Cas begins to eat his, and Dean leans in to grouse. “All this fancy shit and the food sucks? We are so taking the limo to the drive thru on the way home.”

Cas smiles at him as he attempts (unsuccessfully) to cut a piece of zucchini with the side of his fork. “It’s your night. Whatever you want.”

Even if the food were perfect, Dean’s too nervous to eat more than a few bites. According to the program, the nominees will be introduced and the winner announced right after dinner. Sure enough, while people are finishing their meals, the emcee strides up to the podium. She’s a well-coiffed woman who gives Dean unhappy thoughts of Cas’s mother and Dean feels his panic begin to rise. Cas takes his hand in both of his and squeezes it warmly until the nominees are called to the stage with a round of applause.  

Cas must move fast because the vibrating picks up in intensity and Dean has to grip the edge of the table so he doesn’t pitch himself forward. He covers it by waving one of the other women ahead of him and hopes he comes off as gentlemanly and not like a submissive idiot who thought it would be a good idea to let his fiancée have access to a remote controlled vibrating butt plug at a black-tie event.

The ridiculousness of the situation strikes him and, as much as he wants to turn and give Cas a dirty look, it’s thrilling to have this happening between them. Yeah, ok, it’s a little fucked up and this might not be the way every couple supports each other, but for them, it works. Dean’s concentrating so hard on walking normally up the few steps to the raised platform serving as a stage that he forgets to be worried about all those eyes on him. By the time he’s seated on the stage, the applause dies down and Cas has taken mercy on him again.

One by one, all five nominees will be called forward while the blurb about each one of them that’s already in the program is read aloud by the emcee. Dean will be the fourth one called and, after the first few, he knows to expect that jolt each time the audience claps. He finds himself clenching around the plug in anticipation which only serves to heighten the sensation. He tries to glare at Cas, who is carefully not meeting his eye, but he leaves the bracelet alone because, truth be told, it’s helping the rest of what’s happening around him fade away to tolerable levels.

When it’s his turn to be introduced he gets up from his chair carefully, tugging a little at his jacket to hopefully conceal his half-hard dick. All that’s required of him is to stand next to the emcee as she reads. Standing there, he makes the mistake of looking out over the crowd and the sea of faces all looking back at him make his heart beat double time in his chest. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and focuses on Cas right there in front. He’s expecting him to smirk, maybe, knowing he’s got Dean right where he wants him, but instead Cas is looking at him with fierce pride, his eyes shining with such love and affection that Dean feels himself begin to tear up. He blinks them back as the emcee finishes. When the applause starts, he feels the unmistakable buzz of the vibrator hitting its highest speed and he stands there for a perplexed moment because he’s been watching Cas, who is applauding with vigor, his hand nowhere near the remote in his pocket.

Dean doesn’t win. Honestly, he’s fine with that. Cas stands back, smiling, as people shake his hand and congratulate him on being nominated. Dean feels him give the plug a couple of little bursts of speed but now, with the stress of the ceremony over, it feels a lot less like a way to ground him and a lot more like a promise of things to come.  They mill around a little while longer but then Dean makes his way to Cas.

“Can we get out of here?”

“Anything you want.” Cas pulls out the card the driver gave him and calls him to bring the limo around.

Cas presses against him and kisses him hard as soon as the driver shuts the door. Dean breaks the kiss when the driver gets into his own seat because the partition is partially open. “Wait,” he says to Cas who is moving in for another kiss. “I have a question.”

“Hmm?” Cas says, nuzzling his cheek instead.

“How did you—“ and here Dean widens his eyes meaningfully  “without using your hands.”

“Oh, I used them,” Cas assures him. “I merged the Bluetooth remote with The Clapper.”

“You _what_?” Dean tries to get to a fully upright position to process this but just as he moves, Cas claps his hands sharply. Dean makes a noise that sounds a lot like _Yeep!_

“But—“ Dean begins but Cas responds by putting a finger to his lips.

“No more questions.”

Any argument is gone when Cas presses back against him, his tongue sweeping into Dean’s mouth. The vibrator is still going and Cas trails a hand down to feel the bulge in Dean’s pants. Dean has the presence of mind to gesture forward to let him know the partition is still open, but Cas grabs his wrist to stop him. He pulls back enough to look hungrily at Dean and Dean feels his pulse speed up. What the hell does Cas have planned right here where the driver can see?

Cas scoots around until he’s over on the long side of the curved seat and gestures for Dean to join him. Dean relaxes a little because that puts them almost directly behind the driver, obstructing his view. Cas pulls Dean onto his lap, face out and unzips Dean’s fly. Dean takes a sharp breath and his cock is fully hard before Cas even gets a hand on it. He strokes it slowly, not enough to get him off, but that, along with the incessant vibration is enough to have him buzzing all over with a sensation that hovers between pleasure and frustration.

With his hand wrapped around Dean’s cock, Cas leans in close to murmur in his ear. “I know what you want, Dean.”

Dean lets his head fall back and makes an unintelligible noise of agreement. Cas knows him inside and out and could probably tell him precisely how many strokes it would take to get him off at this point, and hey, that would be a fun game.

“Tell me what you want,” Cas says and that’s an easy one.

“I want you. I want this.” Dean practically breathes the words as Cas tightens his grip.

“No,” Cas says simply, but his hand never stops moving. “That’s not it.”

Dean’s taken aback at that but he’s having a hard time concentrating. “It—it’s not?”

“You want to go through the drive thru.”

Dean starts to laugh, but that’s when Cas swipes his thumb over the leaking head of his cock and the laugh turns into a groan.

“Tell the driver.”

Dean sits up enough to twist and look at him. He’s dead serious. “Cas,” he protests.

Cas raises one eyebrow.

Dean’s mouth falls open and he gapes at Cas who slows his hand, waiting to see what Dean is going to do.

And Dean knows he’s going to do it because his nipples got painfully hard the minute he even considered it. “Ok,” he says, softly.

Cas gives him a smile and Dean feels a warmth rush through his chest at not letting him down.

Now he gets why Cas re-positioned them. From his perch on Cas’s lap, he can lean forward toward the partition. He opens his mouth to speak but Cas clears his throat and he stops. “Open it all the way.”

Dean stops himself from whining. Mostly. Then he takes a deep breath and pushes open the Plexiglas window. The driver immediately meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. Cas squeezes his cock and there’s no way the driver can see that, right? Dean squirms a little bit as Cas begins stroking again. “Hey.” Jesus, he sounds like he’s been out running. He swallows and tries again. “Could you, uh, take us through a drive thru?”

If the driver notices Dean is getting jerked off maddeningly slowly, he doesn’t let on. “Any place in particular?”

“Uh.” Dean knows the answer to this, he totally does, but Cas takes this opportunity to rev up the vibrator and when Dean shifts on his lap in response the thing nails his prostate and he gasps in surprise.

The driver raises his eyebrows.

“Burgers,” Dean manages and he starts to lean back to the safety of the dark limo.

“Give him money for the food,” Cas instructs him before Dean can end the conversation.

Dean holds up a finger. “Money,” he says because apparently one word sentences are all he’s good for.

Cas takes the hand not on his dick and drags it up over the starched front of his white shirt, hitting both nipples on the way to the breast pocket of his jacket. He retrieves Dean’s wallet and Dean fumbles to take it from him. Cas finds one nipple and rolls it softly between his thumb and finger.  Dean lets out a tiny groan that he tries to cover up with a fake cough. That backfires when Cas gives it a hard pinch and elicits an honest to God grunt out of him.

When Cas whispers to him to close it, he tosses $20 through the window and slams the partition shut.

He leans back, molding himself against Cas, who latches onto his neck with his mouth. Dean grinds his ass down trying to reposition the plug and get it back on his sweet spot while Cas teases him along with light touches.

His eyes are closed and his hips are taking on a mind of their own as he chases the not-enough sensation he’s getting from all sides, but when he feels the limo slow down to exit the freeway he tries to pull himself together. Cas notices too because he pulls his hand away from Dean’s leaking cock. Dean takes a deep breath and works on composing himself but Cas puts his fingers in Dean’s mouth so that he can lick off the pre-come that’s made them slick.

The limo drives toward a fast food place and, even though Dean knows the windows are tinted, it’s still disconcerting to pass people on the sidewalk or in neighboring cars with his legs splayed open and his glistening dick on full display. He’s relieved when Cas puts a hand back on his fly to tuck him back in…only instead he’s unbuttoning Dean’s pants and working to push them and his underwear down over his hips.

“Cas,” he hisses as the limo pulls into the drive thru.

“On your knees,” Cas says, nodding toward the partition and he’s finally lost his mind. Dean’s not just going to safeword out, he’s going to climb onto the roof of the limo and shout it for everyone to hear because this is fucked up.

Only…

If he kneels here right in front of Cas, he can keep his lower half hidden when the partition opens again.

He turns and gives Cas a long look over his shoulder. “You’re dead to me,” is all he says but he’s shoving his clothes down a little further and kneeling in the foot space.

He can hear the harsh tone of the intercom speaker and the driver’s voice as Cas cups a handful of his ass before taking out the plug and replacing it with two fingers.

Dean gasps and hides his face in his hands because it’s too much. He’s bare-assed in the back of a limo about to have a face-to-face transaction with the driver. The car advances to the window and Dean sways with the motion, whimpering as he moves back onto Cas’s hand.

The driver and the window attendant exchange money and food and pleasantries but it sounds like it’s coming from far away. Dean is distracted just enough to wonder if there’s a word for tunnel vision that applies to hearing because all he can hear is the slick sound of Cas’s fingers moving in and out of him and the ragged harshness of his own breathing.

There’s a tentative knock on the partition and Cas stills his hand in response. Dean runs his hands through his hair, tugging a little, before blowing out a long breath and sliding it open.

“Here you go, sir.” He passes back the bag of food.

Dean takes it with one hand and goes to slam the window shut again because Cas has decided now is the perfect time to add a third finger.

“Sir!” Dean gives the man a pleading look, unable to form words. The driver holds up some bills. “Your change.”

“Keepitthanks.” This time he slams it all the way shut and rests his forehead on it.

“So good, Dean.” Cas says, although he sounds a little breathy himself. “Even remembered your manners.”

And why, even though he’s on his knees literally serving as Cas’s personal Muppet, does Dean feel a flush of warmth at the praise?

The bag of food is tossed God knows where and Cas is pulling his own cock out as the limo heads back towards the highway. Dean is already on his knees so he turns to take it in his mouth, but Cas stops him and pulls a little packet of lube from his coat pocket. As Dean watches, he slicks himself up, then beckons to Dean. Dean climbs onto his lap, kissing him gratefully as he prepares to sink down onto his cock, but Cas stops him again. “Turn around.”

It’s awkward, but Dean does as he’s told, moving until his back is to Cas’s chest. From this direction, he can see directly into every car they pass on the road as Cas pushes into him. He’s pretty sure they’re hidden from view. Pretty sure. But what if the outside light has changed or the angle is just right and somebody can see his face as Cas fucks him? Imagining what he must look like, he starts to cover his own face again, but Cas is having none of it. From behind, he takes a wrist in each hand, crossing his arms in front of him and pinning them to his sides.

Cas fucks into him fast and hard until all Dean can do is brace his feet on the mini bar and hang on. Whether or not anyone can see him, he’s exposed. The driver is inches away and no matter how professional he is, there’s no mistaking what’s going on back here. Dean wants to close his eyes, he knows Cas can’t stop him from doing that, but he doesn’t. And that’s why they do this. Because Dean didn’t know how much of a turn on this was until Cas initiated it. By giving Cas this control, Dean finds himself doing things he never would have been brave enough to do otherwise. And Jesus, does Cas ever make it worth his while.

Cas is practically growling into his neck, punching groans out of him with every thrust and Dean stops trying to hide what’s happening. The thrill of being caught is coursing through him and he just needs a hand on his bouncing cock to put him completely over the edge but Cas still has his wrists pinned down. He thrusts up once more with enough force that Dean nearly hits his head on the roof and then Cas is coming inside him.

Cas lets go of him, but instead of finishing him off, he pushes between his shoulders blades so that Dean will lean forward.  When he does, Cas pulls out and quickly and easily replaces the plug.

Dean wants to be mad, but now he realizes they’re only blocks from home and, with Cas’s ok, he scrambles to get dressed. When the limo pulls up in front of the duplex, the driver gets out but he very pointedly does not open the door for them.

Dean’s sure he looks a wreck. His shirt is only half tucked in, his cummerbund is askew, and he can feel the red marks Cas left on his neck. Cas, who somehow looks completely unrumpled, is reaching for his wallet. He knocks on the window and the driver opens the door. Cas nods for Dean to get out first and Dean does so without making eye contact of any sort. He heads right for the front door but he blushes again hearing the driver thanking Cas for the tip. Dean doesn’t even realize he’s clutching the bag of fast food until he needs one hand to get out his keys.

Inside, Cas takes the bag from him and sends him upstairs. He stands in their darkened bedroom a little dazed and waiting for whatever comes next. Cas cups his face gently to kiss him one time and then there’s a flurry of rental clothes being stripped off and tossed on the floor. When they’re both naked, Cas pushes Dean back until he clambers onto the bed and then he crawls over him. Cas sits back, his ass on Dean’s thighs, and claps his hands.

This time, the vibrator buzzes to life _and_ light snaps on.

Dean starts to laugh at the shocked, confused look on Cas’s face and he keeps on laughing even when Cas tries to regain his Dom face. He laughs and he laughs until Cas scoffs out a long breath and crawls down to take Dean’s cock in his mouth.

Cas doesn’t tease him, he licks and sucks until Dean is fully hard again and, with one hand around the base of his cock, he uses the other to slowly change the angle of the plug until Dean is gasping and writhing and clutching at Cas. He gets Dean off hard, and Dean cries out as the hours of not-enough finally give way to overwhelming pleasure. Dean’s still panting through the aftershocks when Cas, with a flourish like a flamenco dancer, claps his hands again and plunges them into silence and darkness.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Dean says.

Cas kisses his nose. “Did I mention how proud I am of you?”

Dean nods, even though Cas probably can’t see it.  

Cas kisses him a few more times. “All right if I go get stuff to clean you up?”

Reluctantly, Dean lets go of him.  “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Will you go down and get the burgers? I’m starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank [NowMakeThemKiss](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NowMakeThemKiss) for this nonsense.


	13. Chapter 13

As happens with surprising regularity, Dean finds himself naked and tied to a chair. It’s a chair they bought from Ikea almost as a joke because it was so impractically designed that it seemed good for nothing BUT bondage. Dean feels the ropes crisscrossing his skin, placed there with the same meticulous care Cas always uses. They wrap around him snugly, holding him together when it sometimes feels like the rest of him is coming apart. Cas likes to get him ready and some days, like today, it’s just the ropes. Other days it’s a blindfold or a gag or the cuffs or some combination of them, like he’s ordered Dean off a Chinese menu, prepared just the way he wants him.

Cas likes to get him ready and then back off, leaving Dean—he starts to think _stewing in his own juices_ but he wrinkles his nose up at that. Let’s go with _alone with his thoughts—_ waiting for whatever it is Cas has in store for him. Waiting until the anticipation has his nerves jangling, each sensation heightened as he becomes hyperaware of his surroundings, waiting for Cas to come to him.

Cas has been gone for a while now but time always seems to skew when Dean is like this so he can’t say for how long. Dean breathes slowly, and the ropes pull as his chest expands. He’s too conscious of the feeling of the blonde wood against his bare ass so he takes another deep breath to try and settle his mind. Instead of relaxing and embracing the sensations, he finds himself wriggling his fingers where they’re bound behind him. The rope is a little tight around his right ankle. It’s nothing major, nothing he needs to alert Cas to, but enough that he finds his mind drifting toward the little bit of pressure there.

He works his jaw, almost wishing he had something jammed in his mouth so that it would be one less body part to fidget. Then he thinks about how fucked up that is, like he can’t even take care of himself, like he needs to be some sort of freakish ventriloquist dummy for Cas. Or something. That doesn’t even make sense, really, and Dean huffs out a breath at his inability to think what he means. He tries another deep, calming breath but this time the ropes feel like they’ve tightened, compressing against his torso, restricting his breathing.

Why is he even like this? This chair is hard and uncomfortable and he doesn’t have to imagine how ridiculous he looks, because sometimes Cas takes his picture to show him later. He knows exactly how helpless he ends up, how trussed up to be used like a thing whenever Cas damn well decides it’s worth his time and attention.

Dean shifts a little more, trying to shake himself out of this negative self-talk. Even the awareness that he’s engaged in this loop doesn’t make it any easier. In fact, he’s starting to get annoyed that Cas can’t tell that Dean’s on edge, irritable at being left alone with his brain spinning. Being trapped inside Dean’s mind isn’t a fate he would wish on anyone. Jesus, he can be such an annoying asshole. So needy half the time, always going down this road of self-destructive behavior even when he knows better.

Cas is probably off checking his email in the other room, looking for some way to pass the time before he’s forced to come deal with Dean again. Dean twists his leg, letting the rope dig into his ankle. A wave of red hot anger courses through him, tightening the air in his lungs and making a buzzing sound in his brain. Even through his clenched jaw, the word is out of his mouth clearly:

“Pittsburgh.”

Cas is there so quickly that he must’ve been only steps away, keeping Dean in view the whole time. He hurries around to the front of the chair, crouching in front of Dean, his hands already at work on the knots. “I’m here, Dean. What’s wrong?”

Dean can see the concern in his eyes and the anxious pinch between his brows. His brain tells him that it’s because Dean ruined things. Again. Even though Dean asked for this, starting them down this path months and months ago when he first brought the idea up so hesitantly with Cas, he can’t even follow through with it.

“Just…” Dean twitches a little, indicating he wants the ropes off.

Cas moves quickly, unwrapping the loops until Dean’s free. He starts to reach for Dean to massage his limbs like he always does once he’s untied, but Dean jerks his arm away.

“It’s fine.”

Cas drops his hand, sitting back on his heels so he’s mostly at Dean’s eye level. It feels patronizing to Dean and he pushes up off the chair.

“Dean.”

“Can I fucking get dressed at least before you start giving me the third degree?”

Cas blinks, taken aback. He slowly gets to a standing position. “Of course.”

Dean grabs underwear and pajamas from his dresser and takes more time in the bathroom than he needs, occasionally running water for no good reason so that Cas will think he’s actually doing something other than staring at himself in the mirror. When he can’t stall any longer, he opens the door to find Cas pacing the room. He stops when Dean comes out but even the sight of him so agitated makes something clench in Dean’s chest.

“Can we talk?” Cas asks, softly like Dean might snap at him again.

“Not much to say. I just wasn’t feeling it tonight.”

“Ok. That’s fair,” Cas says carefully, and Dean wants to roll his eyes at the kid gloves. God, Cas must be so sick of dealing with him all the time. “Can we talk about why?”

“I just wasn’t.” Dean knows he owes him more of an explanation, he knows it as well as he knows his own name, but right now he can’t get past the irritation and anger.

“It just seems strange that you’ve never needed to use your safe word in all this time but tonight—“

“That’s what it’s for, right?” Dean interrupts. “It’s why we have it and I used it so what is the big deal?”

“I want to make sure—“

Dean digs the heel of his hand into his forehead. “I’m tired.” It’s a cop-out but he doesn’t care.

“Can I get you something? Do you have a headache?”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m gonna sleep it off.” He gets into his side of the bed, wishing the lamp was on so he could switch it off dramatically.

Cas watches him in silence for a long moment. “Do you…want me to sleep somewhere else?”

A cold fear creeps up Dean’s spine, his blood icy in his veins. He most definitely does not want that, but he’s painted himself too far into this corner. There’s no way he can say _get in this bed and hold me_ at this point no matter how much he’d like to. “Do whatever you want.”

Dean can scarcely breathe while he waits to see what Cas will do. Maybe this is the out he’s been looking for and Dean served it right up to him on a silver platter. Maybe this way Dean will at least have his answer as to why he’s been wearing Cas’s goddamn ring for months and they still don’t have a wedding date set.

Cas shuts the bathroom door and Dean pulls the pillow over his face. If he could smother himself into oblivion he would do it. The longest five minutes of his life pass before Cas comes back out leaving Dean to listen intently as his footsteps move towards the bedroom door. _Congratulations, you fucking idiot. You did this to yourself._ Even with the pillow over his head, he can tell when Cas switches off the light. There’s a long pause while Dean’s heart is pounding so loudly that he holds his breath to try and slow it and to hear what will happen next. In the dark, Cas comes back around the foot of the bed and climbs in next to Dean.

Dean lets out his breath as slowly and quietly as he can. He lies there as still and silent as a corpse, terrified that any movement he makes will be interpreted as a move to start a conversation. The relief of Cas not leaving takes the edge off his mood as does the realization of what’s really bothering him. He knows Cas loves him. He knows Cas is committed to him whether or not they get a stupid piece of paper to prove it to the rest of the world. He doesn’t even like weddings, but people keep asking. Anna, of course, has hounded them from the start. Sam, who is so wrapped up in his own life, has still found time to ask him a few pointed questions about when and where. Even Naomi wants to know. The nagging doubt comes crashing back over him: why did Cas propose if he doesn’t want to go through with the next step?

The thing is, Dean has had enough therapy over the years to know that these are big, serious questions. They are the kind that you talk about in the light of day when everyone is rational and things are calm. Maybe it’s the kind of thing you even set aside time to discuss so that everyone is present and prepared. That’s how you have adult, rational conversations about serious, adult matters.

So, of course, Dean shoves the pillow off his face and sits up, switching the bedside light on as dramatically as he can. “Cas, if you don’t want to get married, I wish you’d just say so.”

He barely has a moment to savor his own outrage because Cas looks so immediately stricken. “How could you think that?”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? We got engaged over a year ago and there’s been nothing since then.”

“Dean, of course I want to get married.” He sits up. “I love you, you know that, right?” He reaches toward Dean, but Dean moves out of his grasp, some more of the fight going out of him as he sees Cas’s look of alarm.

“Then what’s the deal? I’m tired of people asking and having nothing to tell them. For the love of God, even your mother wants to know. _Your mother_ , Cas.”

Cas’s face falls and Dean’s stomach twists, but then Cas is flopping back down onto the pillows again, covering his face with both hands. There’s a long moment before he speaks. “When my mother got on board, I think it freaked me out. I’ve spent so much time pushing back at my parents that I didn’t know what to do when we were all on the same side.”

Stretching back out, Dean props himself up on one elbow to look at his fiance. “So, you’re saying you didn’t move forward with our wedding plans because your mother _approves_ of your choices?”

Cas slowly uncovers his face. “When you put it that way it sounds rather...juvenile.”

Dean pokes him in the ribs. “Ya think?”

Cas rolls onto his side and looks at Dean with his blue eyes wide and earnest. “I’m so sorry if my own bullshit made you feel in any way unwanted.”

“I should’ve said something sooner,” Dean says, as he wraps him up in his arms. “Although, having your mother come between us? Feels like old times.”

Cas manages a small laugh and Dean kisses away his next apology.

*

In the morning they go to breakfast at Angelo’s and discuss plans over big plates of french toast.

“Ok, so we know we want small and casual,” Dean says.

Cas nods then raises one eyebrow. “Although you in a tux is pretty hard to resist.”

Dean feels his face heat. “You may have ruined tuxes forever for me.”

“Worth it.”

Dean tries to glare at him but he can’t help smiling. “ _Any_ how, we need a place and a date and food and like, a cake? Is that it?”

Cas chews a bit of bacon, considering. “Invitations? Guest list?”

“Someone to officiate? I feel like we should be writing this down.” Overwhelmed, Dean slumps back against the booth. “I was wrong. Pretend I never said a word last night. This is too hard.”

“I mean, my mother will help us...”

They sit in silence contemplating that while the server swings by to refill their coffees. Cas leans forward to place his cup down decisively. “What if we go find a justice of the peace right now and just do it?”

It’s tempting. Cut out all the trappings and go right to what really matters: the two of them officially hitched. Naomi would never forgive them and Sam…

“I don’t want to do it without Sam there,” Dean admits.

Cas takes his hand. “You’re right. Besides, Anna would kill me.”

“Ok, so summer, then? When Sam can fly back?”

“That makes sense. Would you want to do it here?”

Ann Arbor is great and it’s where they’ve made a home for themselves, but it doesn’t feel right for this. “No, I think back home.”

“Shall I tell my mother we want to use the church?”

Dean chokes on his french toast. “Yes, tell her we have our hearts set on a big, gay church wedding.” By some miracle they hadn’t burst into flames when they’d attended on Easter, but there had been some disappointing looks from Naomi when Cas had snorted loudly at Dean trying to safeword out midway through the service. Dean thinks for a moment. “Wait, I think i know the perfect place.”

*

Seven weeks later, they stand on a  grassy patch overlooking the river as the sun begins to set. Behind them, the pavilion is decorated with strands of twinkling lights. Glass bottles filled with sunflowers and other bee-friendly blossoms line the picnic tables underneath its shady cover. If Dean were to look over his shoulder, he would see the parking lot near the boat launch where he and Cas had parked the Impala in the rain that late spring night years before, where they’d made the decision to try again and tie their futures together.

But Dean looks instead at the man standing across from him. Despite the small crowd of people behind them, watching from blankets and folding chairs set up in the grass, Dean sees nothing but Cas.

The sun is warm, but that’s not why Dean is sweating. Anna had tried to get them to do the traditional _don’t see each other until the wedding_ thing, but they’d both rejected that. The whole idea is to do things casually, a celebration of what they have with the people who matter to them. It’s supposed to be a day of family, friends, and fun.

Only standing here, with Bobby temporarily ordained to perform their ceremony, everything feels a lot more weighty and important. The words he’s about to speak take on a seriousness that he hadn’t anticipated. He knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with Cas, he could tell that to anyone who asked, but standing here like this makes him feel like the entire universe is listening.

Cas looks like he feels the same way. His eyes are soft and so blue and they never leave Dean’s face. He can feel the way his palms are sweating too, where their hands are joined, but Dean only holds on tighter.

This morning Dean had woken with his heart pounding, but not fearful of their wedding day, not by a long shot. He’d woken with a flare of panic at how easily they could’ve missed each other, how his life could have continued without Cas in it, whether by accident or by choice. He woke with his pulse racing at how tiny decisions made by either one of them could have left them on completely different paths. Cas was still asleep, but Dean burrowed himself closer, breathing him in and taking solace from his presence. Instinctively, Cas wrapped an arm around him and Dean lay there, focused on controlling his own breathing. When Cas woke up, he’d kissed the top of Dean’s head, then shifted until he could see Dean’s face.

“You good?” he asked, concern in his still-sleepy eyes.

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

A bright smile broke across Cas’s face. “Wanna get married today?”

Dean smiled back. “I sure do.”

Now they stand in dress shirts and slacks, each of them with a sunflower boutonniere. Sam stands at Dean’s side, while Anna is next to Cas in a lilac sundress with a wreath of sunflowers in her hair. They’d started with a candle lighting ceremony and three candles flicker in the breeze, one each to remember Mary, John, and Gabriel. Dean can’t help but wonder what his father would make of this day and if he would have even attended, but looking at the way Cas’s father is there, with an arm around his mother’s shoulders as she dabs at her eyes, he feels hopeful that John could’ve found a way to be happy for his son.

Bobby’s dressed up for the occasion, his beard neatly trimmed and his hair slicked back. He holds his notes tightly in his hands but when he speaks his voice calm and familiar. “I know these boys didn’t ask me to marry them because of my eloquent way with words.” He pauses while the assembled guests laugh. “But I’ve got something to say to them before we get going.”

Oh shit, Dean is not on board for Bobby to get emotional. That’s the whole point of Bobby: you can count on him to tap the brakes to keep you from going too far down the road of feelings.

Except today apparently.

He turns to Dean. “When Castiel showed up in your life, we didn’t need you to tell us because it was obvious that you’d found someone special. You were happier, more relaxed, like the weight of the world was off your shoulders for once.” He clears his throat but his voice goes tight with emotion. “All of us, we’ve always known just how special and worthy you are, but we will always be grateful to Cas because once he came along, you finally believed it, too.”

Dean feels the lump in his throat rise and he blinks away tears, but even so he has to scrub away one that escapes and rolls down his cheek. Cas squeezes his hand and Dean can hear Sam sniffling just out of his field of vision. It’s a relief when Bobby turns to address Cas next.

“And Cas, before we got to know you, we knew you were all right because as soon as Dean started to let you in--” Dean bites his lip at that and can’t resist glancing at Cas, who raises an eyebrow ever so slightly then cracks a smile. “We knew you were somebody important. When Dean loves he loves fiercely, and it’s obvious to everyone that he loves you. Today may be the day we make it official, but you’ve been family to us for quite some time now.”

Their vows are simple and straightforward, both of them wanting to focus on what they’ve built and their promises for the future. Words Dean has always imagined would be awkward to speak aloud instead flow from his lips, imbued with an almost desperate sincerity. Dean feels them for what they are: a promise to one another to share their lives through whatever may come their way, and to do so with love, respect, honesty and trust.

The way Cas looks at him when it’s his turn is almost too much for Dean, and when he starts to get lightheaded, he reminds himself to breathe.  

When it comes time to exchange rings, Dean turns to his brother who slips the ring out of his pocket. Dean takes Cas’s left hand.

“This is my beloved and this is my friend.” Those words are inscribed inside the plain platinum bands. He slides it on Cas’s finger saying, “With this ring, I marry you and join my life to yours.”

When Cas gets his ring from Anna, his hand is shaking but his voice is sure. “This is my beloved and this is my friend. With this ring, I marry you and join my life to yours.”

Bobby nods. “You boys go ahead and kiss now.”

A married kiss shouldn’t feel different than any other kiss, but this one does. Everyone is cheering and clapping and, as Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands, Dean sees the sun glint off his ring. They kiss like they’ve been apart for a thousand years and when they break apart, it’s to laugh and cry a little bit at the same time.

He can hear Ellen holler, “Can we drink now or what?” and people start to move from the grass to where the beer is chilling in a big metal tub of ice. Before they can move, Sam envelops them both in a giant bear hug and Dean does his best to hug him back without letting go of Cas’s hand. Bobby hugs them next and then Cas’s parents are there as well, hugging them both tightly and congratulating them. It’s an unofficial receiving line as people stream up to them: among them Ellen and Jo, Charlie, Jess, Kevin, even Chuck and Hannah who have made the trip from Michigan to be there with them. They’ve barely made it five feet away from where they stood for the ceremony, greeting and chatting with their guests, but luckily Jody appears, like a vision from Heaven, with a beer in each hand for them.

The grill is going now, the smell of burgers beginning to drift over. He and Cas are separated by the small crowd and he misses the feel of Cas’s hand in his but the beer is cold and everywhere he turns he sees people from disparate parts of his life mingling, smiling and talking. He tries not to let it overwhelm him, that these people would set aside an evening to be there for him, for _them_ , to celebrate this moment.

Cas is intent in conversation with Sam who has an arm around Jess.  She’s animated and smiling, clearly give Sam some (no doubt well-deserved) shit. Sam flushes but Cas throws back his head and laughs, and Dean is hit with an irresistible wave of affection. He makes his way closer to take his husband’s hand again and gets a kiss in return.

“Good to know you two are as gross as ever,” Sam says, but his smile is warm.

Dean, as always, knows how to shut his little brother up. “Look at me not asking if you two are next, Sammy.” Sam goes pale but Jess merely laughs.

“Which one of you did the proposing, again?” Jess asks.

In an instant, Dean is transported to that moment, lying facedown on their bed. He can practically feel the pillow under him and the satisfying ache from the night before. He remembers Cas studying his naked body, his gaze almost a physical sensation, before firmly announcing his intention to buy Dean a ring. The thrill of those words had transcended the residual sting of the paddling. “It was Cas,” he tells her. “He takes these things very seriously.”

“I don’t think I ever saw pictures from that,” she says, brow creasing in concentration.

“We kept that moment private,” Cas assures her and Dean stifles a laugh.

They’re saved from further discussion on the matter when Jo comes over to inform them that the burgers are ready and that no one will eat until Dean and Cas fill their plates first.

The food is plentiful and good and there’s a beautiful cake with two grooms perched on top. People clink their forks against their beer bottles and Dean and Cas have to stop and kiss each time they do. It’s hokey and dumb and Dean can’t stop smiling.

The party continues until the long, golden summer evening turns fully dark, leaving the lights twinkling brightly. They cut the cake and hand-feed each other the first bites and not even the frosting is as sweet as the smile Cas gives him. Slowly people start to say their goodbyes and Ellen and Bobby try to get the newly-married couple to leave, but Dean and Cas insist on staying to help clean up. When the last load of leftovers and decorations is carried from the pavilion to the parking lot, they linger there until everyone else has gone.

The Impala is parked very near where it had been that fateful May night and they lean against it, her hood still warm from the hours in the sun. The sounds of crickets and frogs and the occasional night bird fill the air and Cas’s shoulder is solidly up against his.

“Ready to go, husband?” Cas asks after a while.

“We’re _married,_ ” Dean says.

Cas flutters his left hand in the air. “We are.”

Dean kisses him. “Let’s go.”

Dean drives them to the hotel they’ve booked for their wedding night. They’ll stay here tonight then have brunch in the morning at Bobby’s before heading off on their honeymoon. It’s nothing too fancy but the room is comfy and well-appointed and there’s an awfully big bathtub they’re both eyeing. Side by side, they get undressed and brush their teeth. Dean’s still getting used to having his honeycomb right on his right hand and Cas keeps stopping to admire his own wedding ring.

The king-sized bed is a treat, soft and comfortable, and they sigh happily as they settle in. Dean hadn’t realized how tired he was until he stopped moving, and his limbs seem to melt into the plush mattress. Cas raises himself up on one elbow. “It’s our wedding night.”

Dean nods in agreement, yawning too widely to speak.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Mmmhmm.” Dean rolls toward him and they wrap each other up, bodies flush.

“Good night, husband. I love you.”

Dean smiles into his husband’s neck. “I love you, too. Night.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it appears this fic doesn't want to end. I may have some honeymoon thoughts kicking around in the back of my brain...
> 
> Fun fact: My husband and I have those same words inscribed on our wedding bands. 
> 
> We fell asleep on our wedding night, too...

**Author's Note:**

> My non-explicit fics can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder)
> 
> I am [scones-and-texting-and-murder](http://scones-and-texting-and-murder.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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